


(Go On, Believe) If It Turns You On

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kai's newest client brings old feelings rushing back, but this is just a job, and Jongin will have to remember that if he wants to keep his heart safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Go On, Believe) If It Turns You On

Jongin straightens when he hears the knock at the door, carefully tugging the collar of his shirt awry as he gets to his feet. He's only got the one client today, which is one of the major perks of this job. Lots of free time. That, and getting to choose his clients. He's never met this guy before, but his paperwork says he's a businessman, someone who heads a popular new advertising company. There was a post-it attached to the file when he'd gotten it too, a note in Zitao's tidy scrawl. _not too hard on the eyes_. Jongin smiles.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door, already gesturing for the man to enter the room behind him. It's a bit basic, the room that was provided for him when he started working for the same house as Zitao, but it's warm and it's comfortable and it gets the job done. “Come in, make yourself at home.” It's lucky that the man listens, because as he passes, Jongin catches a glimpse of his face, and he freezes. It _can't_ be. There's no _way_.

His new client is tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive, tailored suit. He is handsome, Zitao hadn't missed the mark on that. The man fidgets, straightening his lapels to busy his hands. “I've never done this before,” he admits. It's a line Jongin's heard plenty, but somehow it's different when it's coming from the mouth of someone like this client. There's no sign of recognition on his face, but Jongin is certain that this is Wu Yifan, the same Yifan who was in his last year of high school when Jongin was in his first. This has to be the same Yifan that Jongin had had a thing for, back before he could even admit to himself that his feelings were less hero worship and more a genuine, raging crush.

“It's fine,” Jongin says, and the unsteadiness of his own voice surprises himself. He shouldn't be the one with nerves right now, this is a routine appointment. “Take off your jacket, if you like.” He busies himself with closing the door, taking a second to compose himself. It's been a while since he's felt off balance with a client, but it won't last. This is his element, after all.

Yifan smiles tightly, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. “Sorry,” he says, and when he stands, jacket carefully folded over his arm, uncertain of what to do, it helps Jongin shake it off. He's in control here. It really doesn't matter that his young CEO client Kris Wu turned out to be Wu Yifan, high school basketball star. It's all the same in the end, isn't it?

Jongin nods his head at his chair and Yifan colours, tossing his jacket across the back of it. “Relax,” he says, and he favours Yifan with a smile. It's taken a few, but he can feel that mask sliding on. This is an easy enough role to play. He throws himself on the bed, and when his shirt rides up, he doesn't tug it down. “Come sit with me.”

It's funny, for someone who is so striking, you would think he would be more comfortable in his skin. When Yifan sits, he tries too hard to lounge next to Jongin. Yifan keeps a careful distance from him, and Jongin watches as his throat works. “I'm Kris,” Yifan offers, and Jongin is just glad that he doesn't follow it up with some silly line straight out of a porno about how Jongin will be screaming it tonight.

“Kai,” Jongin replies, and he sits up, folding his legs up under him. Yifan seems to have done well for himself. He reaches out to brush his fingers against Yifan's knee, and he can feel the softness of the fabric under his fingers. If this were any other man, Jongin would be evaluating him, trying to figure out how to play it. Some guys want him shy and coy, some want a bit of fight in him, but Jongin thinks that maybe he's got an edge here. Yifan looks at him and Jongin doesn't suppress the urge to laugh at how stiff he is. “Sorry.”

“What's funny?” Yifan asks, but his annoyance softens when Jongin leans in.

“You're so awkward,” he says. Yifan's brows crease, but before he can backpedal or pull away, Jongin shakes his head. “No, I mean – You're just making this into a big deal. Stop stressing!” He shifts around until he's sitting right in front of Yifan on his knees, and he reaches out to toy with the end of Yifan's tie. “Sex is just sex, you know.”

Yifan clicks his tongue, but the tactic works. He's not pulling away. “Expensive sex,” he points out, a bit darkly.

“That's how you know it'll be good,” Jongin says, and Yifan laughs. He loosens his tie, and Jongin is momentarily distracted by the size of his hands. They're massive, and not particularly graceful, but his tie is gone in a few seconds. Have they always been this big?

“You're not what I was expecting,” Yifan says. He lays his tie aside, and it pleases Jongin when one of those big hands lands on his knee.

Jongin shrugs a shoulder. “Neither are you,” Jongin says. “But it's nice.” He tips his head. “Did you want to talk? I mean, this is your time. But we could just – ” He reaches out and carefully unfastens just the top button of Yifan's expensive shirt. This is a bit more casual than Jongin is generally comfortable getting with a client, but then, he supposes this isn't the regular situation. His job isn't really normal, but Jongin likes the work, and he's good at it. Still, there's something about Yifan, his dark hair carefully styled and his hands smoothing his slacks, that knocks Jongin's work persona just a little bit askew.

“What kind of asshole pays an escort just to chat?” Yifan asks, eyebrows raised. His tone is just incredulous enough that Jongin is tempted to give him an earful, but he's a professional. Instead, he climbs into Yifan's lap and he likes the soft noise of surprise that Yifan lets out, like he hadn't known this was coming. Jongin laughs and presses his mouth to the pale stretch of Yifan's throat. Yifan's so responsive, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows and his hands fluttering like he doesn't know what to do with them. He figures it out soon enough, though, settling them on Jongin's hips, firm and solid, and the press of his thumb against the jut of Jongin's hipbone sets off a slow burning heat in his gut.

It's not the first time that a client has let Jongin take the lead, but there's still a certain appeal to it. Yifan has a few inches on Jongin and he's more solid, but he lets Jongin unbutton his shirt and when Jongin nips at his throat he shivers so satisfyingly. Jongin likes this work, he likes it more when he's attracted to the clients he has, and this, this is something else. Every time Yifan digs his fingers into Jongin's hips, just a little, every time he makes those choked-off noises of pleasure, it sends a sharp thrill through him. He never thought this chance would come around again, and he's going to take full advantage of it.

Yifan is softer than he'd expected. His shoulders are pleasingly broad under Jongin's hands as he pushes back Yifan's shirt, his skin pale, and when Jongin shifts his weight in Yifan's lap, his fine slacks do nothing to hide how much he's enjoying this. “Already?” he teases, and it's fascinating to watch the way that his flush spreads across his cheeks and down his throat.

“It's been a while, alright?” Yifan mutters, and Jongin pets at the hair at the back of his head. He wonders how long it's been for Yifan, and why. He can't understand it really, not when he grinds down in Yifan's lap and gets a bitten-off moan in return. Yifan's hands push up under the hem of Jongin's shirt, hesitant and soft across Jongin's belly. It's not inexperience, but concern, almost. A client who cares about whether or not he's enjoying himself, what a novelty. Yifan presses one hand down against Jongin's clothed cock, his eyes on his face. “Is this okay?”

Is this okay? Jongin wants to laugh. He wraps his fingers around Yifan's wrist and arches into the touch, moaning breathlessly. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You could say that.” He can't believe that he has Yifan right here beneath him. Teenage Jongin would be losing it. Twenty two year old Jongin is enjoying himself as is. That's not the job, though, and as tempting as it is to forget that, it _is_ a job.

And really, that's not a bad thing, when it involves bending his head to drag his tongue down the strong line of Yifan's throat and watch the way he shivers. There are a lot of things Jongin wishes he could do right now, like messing up Yifan's perfect hair or leaving marks all across his throat, but he knows better. He settles, instead, for nudging Yifan's hands aside and wiggling his hands between them, unbuttoning Yifan's slacks. Yifan makes this startled half-gasp, half-choked noise when Jongin curls his fingers around his dick. He's already almost hard, and Jongin wants to laugh. This is _fun_. “Oh my god,” Yifan says.

“I like the sound of that,” Jongin says, and it's a line, and it could sound cheesy or forced, but Yifan doesn't seem to notice. He tips his head forward to rest against Jongin's shoulder, breathing hard. He's so sensitive. It makes it so easy. Jongin pushes him backwards so that Yifan is sprawled out on the bed. He spares a second to think about how good Yifan looks like that before he tugs his own shirt over his head.

Jongin knows he's a good looking guy, it's part of why he's done so well in this business. Still, when Yifan is staring up at him, lips parted as he reaches out one long arm to stroke a hand down Jongin's chest, it makes him swallow hard. Back in high school, he hadn't even been certain that Yifan had known his name, and now – now, he's certain Yifan will remember him. “Worth your money?” he asks.

It takes a second for Yifan to focus, drag his eyes up. He already looks kind of dazed, and Jongin hasn't done much more than jerk him off a little. It's heady. “That remains to be seen,” Yifan manages, and it sparks something off in Jongin. If this is the only chance he's going to get with Yifan, he's going to make it count. That much is certain.

He raises himself on his knees for long enough to get his fingers under the waistband of Yifan's boxer briefs and drag them down with his slacks. Yifan is pliant under his hands, his skin warm and flushed. Jongin's teeth dig into his bottom lip as he reaches down to curl his fingers around Yifan's hard cock again. It's so rewarding, watching the way that Yifan's head tips back as he gasps like it was startled out of him. “What do you want?” Jongin asks, jerking Yifan off leisurely. “Tell me.”

Yifan's eyes drag up to meet Jongin's, and his throat works. “I have to choose?” he says hoarsely, and Jongin grins.

He slides his thumb across the head of Yifan's dick just to watch him twitch underneath him. He's so hard in Jongin's hand already, and Jongin loves it. “It's your money,” Jongin points out. He hates bringing that up in an appointment, he thinks it breaks the atmosphere, but he thinks he knows how to fix it. He bends down and laves his tongue across Yifan's nipple. “I could suck you off,” he says, and the way that Yifan's hips buck up into Jongin's grip suggests that maybe that one's a winner.

“Jesus,” Yifan says, and Jongin drags his teeth across his ribs. Yifan's hand comes up to rest against the back of Jongin's neck, and he grins against Yifan's skin. He likes teeth, Jongin thinks, and he's not sure why that knowledge sends a bit of a shudder down his spine, but it does.

“Hold on,” Jongin says, and then he shifts to reach up into the drawer of the bedside table. It's a matter of a few seconds work to get the condom on Yifan's cock, and Jongin strokes a few more times than is strictly necessary, just to watch him squirm. “You can pull my hair, if you want,” he says, almost casually, and before Yifan has a chance to reply, Jongin swallows him down.

One of Yifan's hands tangle in Jongin's thick hair, and the other falls to his shoulder. “Holy _shit_ ,” Yifan gasps. Jongin can feel him struggling to hold back, his hips making tiny aborted movements against the fingers Jongin has splayed across his belly. Jongin knows he's pretty good at this, but there's a whole extra level of reward to it when he looks up and sees Yifan watching him through dazed, half-lidded eyes. His mouth is parted, lips slick from where he's licked over them, and for just a second, Jongin wishes that he could kiss him. He knows he can't, that's not part of the job description, but he can't help but wonder what it'd be like. “Kai,” Yifan says, and he cups the back of Jongin's head with one big hand. “Fuck, Kai.”

Jongin takes that as encouragement, and he closes the fingers of his other hand around the base of Yifan's dick, stroking his hand in tandem with the expert bobs of his head. Yifan's cock is heavy on his tongue, and it's always a bit more work with a condom, but he doesn't think it'll be a problem with someone like Yifan. He responds so well to the press of Jongin's tongue, fingertips digging into Jongin's shoulder as his back arches. Must have been one hell of a dry spell, Jongin thinks. He's good but is he that good?

He tongues at the sensitive spot just under the head and Yifan groans, and if Jongin could smile around a mouthful of cock, he would. It's been a while since he enjoyed himself this much with a client, and he really is enjoying himself. Getting off has never been a priority with these arrangements, but he does spare a second to work his hips against the bedspread, just to get some friction.

When he looks up again, he catches Yifan watching him, and he colours. “Are you – ” Yifan starts, but Jongin doesn't let him finish the thought. He takes Yifan in as much as he can, relaxing his throat until his lips meet his hand. It's effective, even if Jongin knows the taste of latex will be on the back of his tongue for hours. Yifan's words dissolve into a strangled noise and he pulls a little at Jongin's hair. “God, please, Kai, _please_ – ” Yifan is breathless, and when Jongin pulls off, he looks wrecked. “Can you – ”

Jongin wipes his thumb across his mouth, half to clean himself up and half to draw attention to his lips. He knows that right now they're full and red and used and he likes the way that Yifan's eyes fix on them, hot with desire. “Don't move.” It's not like Yifan has anywhere to go, but Yifan listens anyway, hands clenched against the bedspread.

As Yifan watches, Jongin shucks off his pants, retrieves the lube and slicks up his fingers well. He's familiar with this part, he knows how much his body needs, but Yifan's mouth falls open as he pushes a finger in, and it makes him want to draw it out. He settles himself between Yifan's thighs and lazily works himself open, lots of lube on his fingers, and he puts on a bit of a show. It's not hard, really, when Yifan brings his hands up cautiously to rest on Jongin's thighs, gaze fixed on what Jongin's doing. “Can I help?” he asks, his fingers skating up the inside of Jongin's thigh, and Jongin finds himself agreeing before he even really thinks about it.

Yifan is slow and thoughtful, eyes fixed on Jongin's face as he gently eases his finger in next to Jongin's two. Jongin can't help the way his back bows at the pressure. Yifan's finger is long and thick and he leans in close when he curls it up against Jongin's prostate. Jongin's breath hitches and Yifan grins. It's methodical and maddening and if Jongin hadn't been hard already, he certainly would be now.

“Alright,” he says finally, and he nudges Yifan's hand away, pulling off their fingers. He's finding it hard to catch his breath, and Yifan's hand, pressed to the small of his back and keeping him close, isn't helping anything. Despite all this, though, Jongin doesn't forget his precautions. He gets rid of the old condom and rolls on a new one, and smirks when Yifan raises his eyebrows. “Can't be too careful,” he says.

Yifan looks faintly offended, but that fades when Jongin shifts forward and slowly sinks down on his cock. “Oh,” Yifan says, his eyes sliding shut for a second, like he's the one who needs to adjust, not Jongin. Jongin's always liked this angle, mostly because he can set the pace, but right now he likes it because of the view. He settles his weight down in Yifan's lap and watches Yifan drag in a shaky breath, his long lashes fluttering.

“Come on,” Jongin says, and he lays his arms around Yifan's shoulders for balance as he rolls his hips experimentally. The stretch is nice, not overwhelming, and every time he tips forward his cock brushes against Yifan's soft belly. It's not enough friction, not nearly enough, but Yifan's dick is seated so deep that he thinks he doesn't mind.

Yifan is a gentleman. He's almost trembling with effort to hold back, and Jongin is halfway touched. “It's fine,” Jongin mumbles, tipping his head forward to press his mouth to Yifan's shoulder. “I can take it.” This isn't his first rodeo, after all, but it's sweet that Yifan is so concerned that he's comfortable.

“I get it,” Yifan grunts, and he grips Jongin's hips tight. He fucks up into him with quick, precise thrusts and Jongin arches, letting gravity and Yifan's hands do most of the work. Like this, the head of Yifan's cock brushes up against his spot every few strokes and makes Jongin gasp and bite his lip. Jongin can't remember the last time sex with a client felt this good. Yifan cups his cheek and leans in, and it's only at the last second that Jongin remembers to turn his mouth away. “Is this okay?” Yifan pants against his cheekbone, and Jongin wants to laugh. His cock is hard and leaking between them and he's flushed and needy.

“What do you think?” Jongin says, but the edge of it is taken off when Yifan thrusts up into him again and he whines, breathlessly.

“I don't think I can hold on,” Yifan mutters, and he looks _apologetic_.

Jongin clenches tight around him and bends down, closing his teeth on the meaty spot where Yifan's shoulder meets his neck. “So don't,” he says, voice muffled, and it's only a few more seconds before Yifan's thrusts get erratic and he sinks in deep. His head tips back and it sends a thrill down Jongin's spine when he feels Yifan come, mouth parted and chest heaving.

He rides Yifan through the aftershocks, until he's shivering with the overstimulation, and then he lifts himself off his cock, grimacing. He would've liked to get off himself, but it's not really part of the deal. He can take care of himself later, anyway. It only takes a few seconds to clean Yifan up, and when he returns to the bed, Yifan is sprawled out on his back, his chest working. His perfect hair is finally a bit askew, and Jongin kind of likes him better that way.

“Whoa,” Yifan says, and he laughs, dragging his fingers through his hair. He glances over at Jongin, and his smile fades a little. “Oh, hey, you didn't...” He gestures at Jongin's still mostly hard cock.

“It's fine,” Jongin begins, but Yifan is already rolling towards him, wrapping his hand around his dick. It really doesn't take a lot to get Jongin going again, not when this is the first time all night his cock has gotten any real attention, but what pushes him over the edge is when Yifan pushes two fingers into him unceremoniously, and crooks them just right. When Jongin comes, he clutches at Yifan's wrist and groans helplessly, overwhelmed.

It takes Jongin a few seconds to gather himself again, and when he does, Yifan is frowning down at his dirty hands. He looks up at Jongin, and shrugs a shoulder. “Seemed only fair,” he says, and Jongin can't help but smile.

“Yeah,” he says, climbing off the bed on shaky legs so he can find another towel. “It's definitely appreciated,” he admits. He takes his time cleaning Yifan's fingers off, probably more than he should've, but Yifan doesn't object. He just holds his hands out patiently and waits for Jongin to finish.

It's always a bit awkward, post-sex in an appointment. “You've got another hour or so,” Jongin says, glancing at the clock. “There's a shower in there, if you want to clean up and stuff.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. Are they there? Is it comfortable? “Worth your money?” he ventures.

Yifan climbs to his feet and heads to the bathroom, pausing at the door. “Worth every penny,” he tells Jongin and Jongin grins at him. That's what he likes to hear. He knows he's going to feel pleasantly sore in the morning, and he can't believe it's because of Wu Yifan. This night turned out pretty well.

While the shower runs in the other room, Jongin takes a few minutes to steady himself, and then starts tidying. He tugs on his loose pants again, just something to cover himself for when Yifan emerges again. It's a nice view when he comes out, broad shoulders glistening, towel slung around his narrow waist. “So,” Yifan says, and Jongin sits down again on the dirty bedspread, folding his legs underneath himself. He watches as Yifan tugs his nice suit on again, frowning at the wrinkles in the material. “Is there any way we could, uh, maybe do this again?”

In the back of his head, high school Jongin pumps his fist in the air in victory. Twenty-two year old Jongin plays it cool, though. “I think we can work something out,” he says. Repeat customers are always a good thing, but a repeat customer like Yifan? Practically a dream.

“Excellent,” Yifan replies, tightening his tie.

When he leaves, Jongin walks him to the door. “Thank you,” Yifan says, that stiffness back, and Jongin grins.

“Oh, you're more than welcome,” he says, and Yifan snorts and shakes his head. He waves goodbye and when Yifan's gone, Jongin leans against the doorframe and presses a finger to his lips, thinking about Yifan's big hands and crooked smile. What a night.

 

 

-

 

 

When Jongin's alarm goes off the next morning for his class, he's feeling last night's appointment. He groans and buries his face in his pillow, reaching out blindly for the snooze button. Does he really need European History? Right now, he's fairly convinced that he doesn't. His hand collides with his alarm clock and it mercifully falls silent. Success. Jongin drags his sheet up over his head and nods off again.

Like all good things, it doesn't last. Jongin yelps as his blanket is torn from his body and ends up somewhere at the other end of his room. “Get out of bed.” Sehun looms over him, a bowl in his hands. He plants his foot against Jongin's belly and shoves. “Your paper is due, and I don't want to see your face anymore.”

“Your face is worse,” Jongin mumbles and Sehun blinks down at him. Sometimes, Jongin wonders if Sehun just spent his entire school career perfecting his unimpressed look, because the look he's directing down at him right now under his bleached blond bangs is pretty on point. “Shut up. I'm tired.”

This time, Sehun wedges his toes under Jongin's hip and sends him rolling into the wall. “Quit moonlighting as a hooker, then?” he suggests. He meanders out of Jongin's room again, and flicks on his radio as he passes, flooding the room with some girl group's latest single. Jongin will never get back to sleep now.

“Escort,” Jongin bellows after him, sitting up. “I'm an escort, damnit.” There's no heat behind it though. He yawns and tugs at his thick hair, trying to get it out of his eyes. His roommate is an asshole. Well. Sehun gets points for the wake-up call, but that's about it

He manages to get himself ready for class and doesn't drown in the shower, and lucky for him, his reward is a hot coffee, courtesy of Baekhyun. “Rough night?” he asks quietly as they slide into their seats, grinning, and Jongin frowns at him. He doesn't think he looks _that_ rough – but then Baekhyun gestures at his hip, where his shirt has ridden up. There's a fingerprint-shaped bruise forming there and Jongin flushes, dragging his shirt down.

“I don't know why I tell you guys anything,” he grumbles, and Baekhyun pats his knee.

“You love us,” Baekhyun says, tapping Jongin's coffee with one manicured nail, and then the professor up front is firing up the projector and starting the lecture.

In his defense, he had never particularly intended to tell Baekhyun about how he was putting himself through school. Baekhyun had just wormed it out him. He's always been kinda good at that. “Debatable,” Jongin mutters.

Jongin only halfway pays attention to the old man droning away at the front of the room, a bit bored. At first, when he'd started working at his escort job, it had been a bit strange to come back to his regular life. He used to sneak home really late at night, trying to creep in silently so that Sehun wouldn't hear him. When Sehun got suspicious, Jongin tried to pass it off like he worked at a twenty four hour convenience store, which had lasted exactly a week. Jongin's never been a particularly good liar, and Sehun knew better than to believe that he made the kind of money he did at a convenience store.

It'd turned out better than he'd expected, actually, telling Sehun. He's always been kind of unflappable, and he'd shrugged and nodded and went 'cool' and it all felt pretty anticlimactic. Of course, Jongin hadn't realized at the time that he was signing himself up for a lifetime of Pretty Woman jokes, but it was a small price to pay.

He spends his lunch with Baekhyun out on the steps in front of the arts building, and Chanyeol wanders up when they've almost finished, knocking a water bottle against Jongin's forehead. Jongin frowns and paws him away. “Afternoon, gents,” Chanyeol says magnanimously, folding his long body up next to them, and Jongin grunts a greeting. Baekhyun barely looks up from his phone. “What a beautiful day.”

“You're in a good mood,” Baekhyun comments. He wraps a hand around Chanyeol's, pulling the bottle towards him so he can take a drink.

Chanyeol refuses to let his mood be dampened. Jongin ignores him, bent over the last of his lunch. He's got economics in twenty minutes, and if he doesn't eat beforehand, he'll hate it even more than usual. “Did you realize,” Chanyeol begins, and when he notices that Jongin's not listening, he jostles him with an elbow. “Hey. Did you realize that this is our last year of this?”

His lunch done, Jongin fends Chanyeol off with the pointy ends of his chopsticks. “Yes,” he says. “I can finally escape you.”

Chanyeol's shoulders droop just a little, his bottom lip sticking out. “Come on,” he says. “Aren't you like, a little bit sad? Next year we'll be in the real world with real jobs.”

“It's a bit early to be getting nostalgic,” Baekhyun says. He pats Chanyeol's knee.

“Everyone's asking me what I'm doing after university,” Chanyeol whines, tipping his head to rest against Baekhyun's shoulder. Baekhyun just tilts his phone's screen out of his line of sight. “How am I supposed to know?”

Baekhyun strokes the back of Chanyeol's head distractedly. “Find a nice paying job so you can pay off your student loans,” he suggests. “Isn't that what everyone wants?”

“Not me,” Jongin says, pleased, and he doesn't even mind when it earns him dark looks from both of them. Hey, he's not an escort without good reason. The money is great, and it's a matter of months before he's completely paid off his schooling. There aren't a lot of people his age who can say they've done that all on their own, and he's kinda proud of it.

“Is your house hiring?” Chanyeol asks wistfully.

Jongin scoffs. “You have to be _good_ at it,” he tells Chanyeol, and when Chanyeol swipes at him with one long arm, he flees to his next class, laughing. Chanyeol has a point, he supposes. Once he's paid for school, he's done with escorting, and that's not exactly the type of thing you can put on a resume. He won't be in debt when he's out of school, but damn, he hopes that it won't bite him in the ass eventually.

 

 

-

 

 

Most clients aren't too into the whole aftermath of an encounter. They prefer to just clean up and make their goodbyes. Joonmyun, however, is not one of them. Honestly, Jongin doesn't mind much. He's been seeing him almost every week for seven months now, and he's gotten to know him, at least a little. He works at some law firm, and his suits are every bit as nice and expensive as Yifan's, and he's one of the most respectful clients Jongin has ever had. When he curls up around Jongin, forehead pressed to the back of Jongin's neck and little hands fitted to Jongin's hips, he's always the one who ends up in the wet spot, not Jongin.

Tonight, Jongin rests his head on Joonmyun's chest, listening to his breath as he plays with Jongin's hair. “Do you ever get tired of this?”

His words shake Jongin from his doze. “Of what?” he yawns.

“Of this life.”

It takes Jongin a few seconds to process it, but when it sinks in, he snorts, raising his head to blink at Joonmyun. “This _life_?” he asks. He's not sure he likes what Joonmyun is implying. Sure, sex isn't your average career choice, but there's nothing tragic about it. He took a class with Zitao, who knew a guy. That's how it happened, that's it. He shrugs. “It's a job, hyung. Doesn't everyone get tired of their job?”

Joonmyun is handsome, but the pity in his eyes right now is distinctly unattractive. It makes Jongin stiffen, start to pull away. “Kai,” Joonmyun begins, but Jongin shakes his head.

“Sorry, hyung, I think our time is up.” He's always careful to stay professional, but when Joonmyun reaches out for him again, his fingers brushing against the small of Jongin's back, Jongin doesn't hesitate to pull away under the pretence of helping to gather Joonmyun's things. “Same time next week, I hope.” And he does hope, really. Joonmyun is nice and thoughtful and their sessions are always fun.

Joonmyun's mouth twists, but he doesn't argue. “Of course,” he says. He lets Jongin help him dress, and it helps ease that tension again. He likes the way that Joonmyun's eyes crinkle as Jongin fumbles with his tie. “You need to learn how to do this sometime,” he says teasingly. “It's one of those key skills for being an adult.”

“It's hard doing it backwards,” Jongin protests, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout because he knows Joonmyun is weak for it, knows that even if he is so much smaller than Jongin, he likes being the hyung.

Joonmyun gives him a pass for that, cups Jongin's cheek with a hand for one long minute, but makes no attempt to close the distance between them. He knows better. “See you next week, Kai. Study hard.” With a final squeeze of Jongin's fingers, Joonmyun heads out.

Study hard. Jongin grimaces. He's got two papers and exam review awaiting him at home tonight. Maybe he shouldn't have scared Joonmyun off so early. His mind idly wanders back to Yifan, and his broad shoulders and soft eyes, and he wonders if he'll hear from him again.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin is immersed in studying for his history exam, sprawled across the floor in the living room, when he hears Sehun snort. He frowns, not bothering to look up. “What?”

“Flash cards?” Jongin's fingers tighten on the marker he's using, and when he glances up at Sehun, he's smirking. “Dude.” Sehun's long body takes up most of the couch, and he lets the textbook he's been reading flop back onto his belly so that, Jongin assumes, he can focus on making fun of him. “Flash cards.”

Jongin scrunches up his nose. “There are a lot of dates and places to remember,” he mutters. It's at times like these that he forgets why Sehun is his best friend. “Shut up, visual aids are important.”

“I didn't know it was possible to be such a huge dweeb,” Sehun says. “You've reached a whole new level. It's impressive. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Jongin grumbles. He's fumbling for a comeback when his phone goes off. Normally, he'd just ignore it, it's his study time after all, but it's his work phone. It's Zitao. _mr. wu wants to know if you have an opening next week._ Jongin has to bite back a grin at that. He hadn't expected to hear from him so fast.

Sehun eyes him suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” he asks.

“My big dick,” Jongin says, grinning. Sehun may catch him in the ribs with his heel, arguing that if _anyone_ has a big dick in this house, it's sure not _Jongin_ , but it's really hard for anything to dampen Jongin's mood right now. He texts Zitao back, something about how he has Wednesday free, and then turns back to his studying, kicking his heels.

Now he's got something to look forward to.

 

 

-

 

 

Wu Yifan. Jongin had been just a kid when they'd met, not yet adjusted to the growth spurt he'd had before freshman year, limbs just a little bit too long for his body. Yifan was the head of the basketball team, well-known and well-liked, and Jongin had been in awe.

He'd signed up for the track team on his cousin's insistence, even though he wasn't particularly into running. His parents had agreed with Jongdae – it'd be good for him. Push him out of his shell, get him to meet new people. And meet people he did. Halfway through the season, Jongdae placed second at a meet in his division and Jongin had been so busy congratulating him that he hadn't even noticed Yifan walk up. “Nice one, Jongdae,” he'd said companionably, and Jongin's mouth went dry. Liking guys had been a fairly recent revelation for Jongin, and he had no idea what to do with the way that Yifan made his heart want to jitter right out of his chest. As Yifan and Jongdae chatted casually about the track meet, Jongin had clenched his hands into fists and hoped desperately that he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

“And who's this?” Yifan had asked, and it took Jongin a few seconds for him to process that Yifan was talking to _him_. He'd blinked at Yifan, wide-eyed, until Jongdae had come to his rescue.

“This dweeb is my baby cousin,” Jongdae had said, reaching up to hook an arm around Jongin's shoulder and drag him down to his level. Jongin had already had quite a few inches on him by then, a fact that Jongdae refused to acknowledge. “Not _quite_ as handsome, but if he's lucky, he'll be a decent runner.”

Jongin's voice had been trapped in his throat, but Yifan didn't seem to mind. “Nice to meet you, Jongin,” Yifan had said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “If you're half the runner that Jongdae is, I'm sure the team loves you.” Jongin had managed a feeble smile and then Yifan had walked off.

Just one encounter, and it had stuck with Jongin in a way that the track team never did. He never really met Yifan again, but he still watched him from afar, turning pink if Yifan managed to catch him staring and flash him a quick wave. Jongin couldn't even put it in words – he'd never really felt like this about anyone before – but it was Yifan's broad shoulders and his goofy smile that had made him trip over his own feet, his heart in his throat.

Yifan graduated that year, and left before Jongin ever mustered up the courage to approach him, and it'd left him a little bit heartbroken, at least for a while. Jongin had moved on, as teenagers do, but just the sight of Yifan in his doorway had all those butterflies rushing back. It's just a job, but Jongin can't help but see it as a once in a lifetime chance, and he's sure going to seize it.

 

 

-

 

 

This time, when Jongin opens the door, he's greeted by a dressed-down Yifan. He wears casual slacks instead, and a pale button-up. “I didn't expect to hear from you so soon,” he tells Yifan, stepping aside to let him in. He can't help the pleased edge to his voice, because he _is_ happy about it.

He likes the way that Yifan's shoulders relax under his gaze. “I guess I had some cash to burn,” Yifan says. He reaches for Jongin almost as soon as the door is closed behind him and Jongin grins, coming willingly.

It's funny, because this is only the second time they're meeting, technically, as Kai and Kris, but there's less hesitance in Yifan's touch now, his big hands fitting easily to the dip in Jongin's waist as he bends down to kiss him. He forgets, trying to catch Jongin's mouth, and Jongin has to duck away, smiling apologetically. “I don't do the boyfriend experience,” he says gently, patting Yifan's chest.

Yifan colours. “I'm sorry,” he says immediately. “I should have – ”

Jongin cuts him off with a quick, biting kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Re _lax_ ,” he says. He brushes his nose against Yifan's cheek for a second and then pulls back, eyebrows raised.

“I can relax,” Yifan protests. And he proves it too, manhandling Jongin onto the bed and then climbing on top of him. Jongin had thought that Yifan would want to get straight down to it, this time around, but he takes his time instead, and it sends a shiver down Jongin's spine. He lets Yifan lay him out on the bedspread and push his shirt up, mouthing wetly at his chest.

There's something thrilling about the attention Yifan is focusing on Jongin, the way he gently closes his teeth around one of Jongin's nipples and then looks up at him, almost like he's looking for approval. He's really into it, and for a second, Jongin just enjoys it. He already knows that Yifan likes it best when he's honest, so he doesn't hold back his gasp at the jolt of pleasure.

It just spurs Yifan on, and he pushes a hand down Jongin's pants to stroke his cock. Jongin's not even close to hard, but he doesn't think it'll take long if Yifan keeps this up. “Did you have something in mind?” Jongin manages as Yifan sucks hard on his collarbone. _No marks_ drifts across Jongin's mind, and he pushes at Yifan's shoulder until he stops, looking apologetic.

“Yeah,” Yifan says, and he straightens. “I did.” He turns a bit pink when he tells Jongin to take off his clothes and stretch out on the bed. Jongin knows that Yifan won't ask him for anything too extreme – the rules are very clear that these things have to be discussed ahead of time – but the way that Yifan watches him, eyes dark with anticipation, it still makes Jongin shiver a little. It's intense.

Jongin ends up on his back, his palms pressed to the headboard above him. “Don't move,” Yifan says quietly, and while the nerves are clearly still there, he's more sure this time around. Jongin bites his lip and nods, eyes wide. While this is a high level establishment, most clients are here for one reason: their own pleasure. Jongin is happy enough to supply them with that, and if he gets a little something out of it himself, bonus. It's not often that a client wants to do something for _him_ , but Jongin's fairly certain by now that Yifan is not the typical client for him.

After asking quietly if it's okay, Yifan opens him up slowly, methodically, and it's downright excruciating. Yifan's hands are perfect, long, thick fingers stretching him open until Jongin gasps, frissons of pleasure shooting up his spine. By the time Yifan has three fingers inside him, Jongin is breathless, struggling to hold his hands against the headboard and not grab Yifan's wrist and hold him right where he wants him. This is certainly not what he'd expected, but Jongin can't say he complains. “Please, please, please,” he babbles as Yifan crooks his fingers up, and he's not even sure he's faking it much anymore. Jongin thinks it's a little unfair that Yifan's already this familiar with his body.

He's not so overwhelmed that he forgets to remind Yifan to use a condom, but he is surprised when Yifan lifts his hips up, easily manhandling Jongin into place and then pushing into him in one slow, sure thrust. “Oh my god,” Jongin gasps, and it takes an almost superhuman effort for him to keep his hands above his head. Yifan looks at him, almost surprised, and it spurs him on, fucking into Jongin with firm, sure strokes that leave Jongin moaning.

Jongin feels out of control, and he knows he shouldn't. There are ways of steering this back around, turning the focus back on Yifan, but he's finding it hard think. He squeezes his thighs tightly around Yifan's waist and his breath hitches with each thrust in. Yifan has one hand spread across the small of Jongin's back, holding him up at just the right angle for the head of Yifan's cock to brush across his prostate in toe-curling pleasure.

“Kai,” Yifan says, and Jongin fights his eyelids open and meets his gaze. Yifan's pale skin is flushed, his carefully styled hair hanging in his eyes, and Jongin wishes more than anything that his hands were free, that he could tangle his fingers in it and _pull_. “Look at me. Do you think you could come like this? Just like this?”

 _This isn't about me_ , Jongin thinks, a bit hazily, but it's Yifan's money. If he wants to make Jongin come, then who is he to argue. The idea of it, coming hands-free, from nothing but the stretch of Yifan's cock, it makes Jongin shudder. “Yes,” he gasps, “God, yes, please.” He loves the way that Yifan smiles at that, licking the sweat from Jongin's throat, the thrust of his hips speeding up.

It hits Jongin out of nowhere, startling a shout out of him as his back arches and he spills across his belly. He shakes with the pleasure of it, a bit dazed and reeling even as Yifan bends him in half and fucks him through the aftershocks. “So good,” Yifan mutters in his ear, his hips stuttering as he gasps through his release, and Jongin can't tell if he's referring to him or the sex.

Yifan pulls out and falls to the side, chest heaving, and eyes half-open. “Damn,” he says, and Jongin laughs, burying his face in his pillow. He's not shy about his body, never really has been, but there's something about the way that Yifan looks at him that makes him want to curl up in the sheets and hide away. “You really know your stuff.”

“I guess I do,” Jongin says, his voice muffled by the blankets. _It wasn't me_ , he wants to say, and he flushes. He's never come that hard with a client, not ever. That wasn't a show he was putting on. He's good, but he's not that good. Yifan traces his fingers idly down the dip of Jongin's waist and Jongin shivers.

They make a bit of small talk, and then Yifan stands. “I should go,” he says, a bit reluctant, and he smiles at Jongin. “I've got a presentation in the morning, I should probably get some sleep before that.”

“Big boss has to get up early?” Jongin asks, sitting up, and Yifan pauses where he's been tugging on his slacks. He cups Jongin's face in one big hand for a second, and Jongin has to hold himself steady, remind himself not to lean into it. This is too much, too fast, but he can't help it. It's so nice, being this close to Yifan, when he spent so much of his high school years staring and yearning.

“Right?” Yifan laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What good is being in charge if I still have to be in first thing?” Jongin takes a bit of pride in the relaxed slope of Yifan's shoulders. He did that, he thinks. “Do you – “ Ah, there it is. There's the Yifan who had first come in, still a bit unsure of himself. Jongin had been wondering. “Do you think that we can do this regularly, maybe? I mean, if you want.”

Jongin bites his lip. Part of him, the practical part, is saying that this is a slippery slope. The other part points out that he's got less than a year left at the house, why shouldn't he make it enjoyable? “Sure,” he says. “I've got a few openings. Talk to Zitao.”

“Right,” Yifan says, and he flushes. “Should've thought.”

Jongin ducks his head, trying to bite back his smile. “No, it's nice,” he says quietly, and he shrugs. “That you asked me first.”

Yifan straightens his cuffs and his grin grows more sure. “Then I'll see you around?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Definitely.” Yifan lets himself out and Jongin stares at the door after he leaves. Sometimes, he can't believe that this is his job, that he gets paid for this stuff. Absently, he presses his fingertips against his collarbone, and he thinks.

 

 

-

 

 

They settle on Wednesdays as a regular appointment and Jongin doesn't want to admit how much he kind of looks forward to it. It's his second to last semester of school, and the pressure is on. He spends his classes alternating between taking furious notes and thinking about his appointments with Yifan. Jongin has always tried to keep a kind of solid divide between his work life and his home life, but it's getting hard this time around. He's had nice clients, but he's never had a client like Yifan.

It's silly, but it feels a little like a fantasy coming true. When he was still in high school, Jongin entertained these thoughts of running into Yifan, asking him for coffee, the whole nine yards. It's easy to hang on to these ideas when you're just a kid and someone seems so perfect and out of reach. And now, Jongin's got it even better, he's got the real deal, he's got Yifan and his big hands and his stupid smile and that's when things get all blurry.

He knows he should be focused on what his professor is saying, but when Baekhyun elbows him, it's certainly not the fall of Napoleon that's making his face turn red. “What are _you_ thinking about?” Baekhyun asks, wiggling his eyebrows as Jongin does his best to sink down in his seat and vanish. Telling the truth – _his face pressed to the mattress, ass in the air, the press of Yifan's teeth against his shoulder and his hand against Jongin's belly_ – is not gonna happen.

“Nothing,” Jongin mutters, and Baekhyun curls his hand around his wrist and leans in. If it was hard to focus before, it's pretty much impossible with Baekhyun's mouth at his ear, prying for details. He grips his pen and spends the entirety of the lecture fending off Baekhyun's fingers against his ribs. He has terrible friends.

It's not just class, either. When Joonmyun spreads one hand against Jongin's chest and pushes him against the bed, Jongin can't help but notice how small he seems against him. He should be focused on the job at hand, he knows that Joonmyun pays a small fortune for what he does, but all Jongin can think of is the comparisons. Joonmyun is pretty strong for such a little guy, but he's not nearly as physically imposing as Yifan is. Yifan doesn't exactly linger when their appointments are over, but Joonmyun always stays, always, curled up around Jongin and talking about his his week. Jongin shouldn't think about things like this, but –

A gentle tug in Jongin's hair brings him back to the task at hand. “Are you distracted?” Joonmyun asks gently. “Classes?”

Jongin is so embarrassed. He's never let his mind wander so far in the middle of a _blowjob_ , it's unprofessional and incredibly mortifying. He pulls off and wipes hurriedly at his mouth. “Oh my god,” he says faintly. “Hyung, I'm so sorry.”

It's lucky that it's Joonmyun that he's with, though. He just runs his thumb across Jongin's cheekbone and pulls him up. “It's alright,” he says. “It must be so hard, living a double life.” Jongin's on the job, which is why he lets that slide, although inside, he bristles. Joonmyun means well. “Why don't we just give tonight a pass?”

He's still _hard_ and Jongin is kind of humiliated. How do you manage something like that?? He feels a little like he's failed. “But you paid for the night,” he says, a bit forlorn, and Joonmyun laughs.

“And it's mine to use as I choose,” he says firmly.

This is why Jongin has always liked Joonmyun. He may pay for his time, but he's definitely fond of Jongin, and he's always indulgent. “Okay,” Jongin says, and he settles himself between Joonmyun's knees and rests his chin on his chest.

He's only ever shared a little bit of himself with Joonmyun, the fact that he's a student and the sort of classes he has, but Joonmyun likes to talk. His appointments with Jongin are like stress relief for him, a way to unwind after a week at what Jongin assumes is a high-powered job. He doesn't mind it. He can close his eyes and do some thinking as Joonmyun cards his hands through his hair and talks about the case he's preparing for.

But see, the thing is, his mind keeps wandering back to the same place. And Jongin's beginning to think that's kind of a problem.

 

 

-

 

 

“He says he's gonna have to miss your appointment this week, he's got to work late,” Zitao says, and Jongin tightens his fingers around his phone. It's not disappointing, it isn't. He's on a break between classes, tucked in a doorway with a cigarette between his lips. It's not like he's started to look forward to Wednesdays, or rather, what happens afterwards. It's funny, because every appointment, Yifan stays a little bit longer. Last week, he'd let Jongin get up to clean them both up but then he'd wrapped a hand around his wrist and hauled him back into bed for a bit. He'd never expected Yifan to be so playful, but when he's all fucked out he gets this big, sleepy smile on his face, and it shouldn't even be attractive but it is. “So I guess you've got the evening off.”

Jongin holds his cigarette between two fingers, blowing smoke out into the spring air. It's getting warmer out. “I guess so,” he says. “Thanks, Zitao.”

“Or,” Zitao says all sly, “Or maybe I can just transfer him to you? Since he seems to feel the need to get detailed about why he can't make your appointment.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jongin asks, and he's glad no one can see him right now, see the way that he's flushing.

Zitao hums, and Jongin drops down to a squat, like he's trying to hide. “Mr. Wu is very fond of you,” Zitao says cheerfully. “I'll give him your work number?” He pauses for a second. “I mean, if you want.”

Teeth digging into his lip, Jongin watches the faint curl of smoke from the end of his cigarette. He thinks about how Baekhyun would scold him for smoking and then steal it away from him, telling him it's a waste. He thinks about everything except the knowledge that this is against the rules, that he shouldn't even be considering it, but – “Yeah, I guess,” he says.

He was aiming for casual but he knows he missed it by a mile when Zitao chuckles. “Just a minute,” he says cheerfully, and then the line clicks off.

Jongin's palms are getting sweaty. He's still got twenty minutes before he has to be back in class, this is a mistake, he should call Zitao back. He's not on the clock, he's not Kai right now, this can only go south. His phone vibrates, and he swallows. “Hey,” he says.

“Kai?” Yifan sounds...nervous. Jongin shifts so that he's sitting down now, phone pressed to his ear. Somehow, hearing Yifan's voice has both eased his nerves and made it worse. He doesn't understand it. “It's – it's Kris.”

Kai. Jongin licks over his lips and straightens his shoulders. “I hear you can't make it tonight,” he says. He's never talked to a client on the phone before. Zitao handles all the go-between, he's only ever supposed to see them in his little room in the house.

“I've been working late all week, and tonight is going to be the same,” Yifan tells him. Jongin can hear him shifting on the other end of the line, and he shivers when he wonders why Yifan is even bothering to tell him this. “I'm sorry. I'd ask if we could reschedule, but I think I'm gonna be stuck in this office at least until Friday.” He sounds so genuinely apologetic it's a little surreal. He's worried, Jongin realizes. Maybe he thinks Jongin relies on the steady income. He shouldn't find that sweet.

He's speaking before he even really realizes it. “Maybe I could come to you?” If Yifan getting his number was against the rules, this could get him in trouble with the people who manage his house. The rules are there to protect him, to protect his income, and this is way over the line. It's _stupid_ and risky and thrilling and Jongin can't bring himself to regret it just yet. “A little something to get you through your week?”

“You'd do that?” Yifan asks, hesitant, and Jongin stubs out his cigarette between his knees. “Is that...?”

“I don't want to mess anything up for you,” Jongin says hastily, thinking of how it sounds. Maybe Yifan doesn't want to break that divide, maybe he doesn't want his hired fuck to show up at his place of work. Why doesn't he think before he speaks? “But if you can use a break, y'know.”

“Wow,” Yifan says, and Jongin stands abruptly. He frowns down at his cigarette butt and grinds it into the pavement. “That's. Wow.” Yifan laughs a little, and Jongin is wound so tightly with nerves that he thinks he might fly right out of his skin. “I thought that wasn't something you guys do? Do all of your clients get this kind of treatment?”

“No,” Jongin replies without thinking, and he hears Yifan's soft noise of surprise. “Um. Text me your work address?” He hurries on, hoping a little bit desperately that maybe Yifan won't think about that too much.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jongin worries his lip between his teeth. “Well, uh, I gotta get back to class,” he says, and that was probably dumb too. This is too casual, way too casual, and Jongin's heart is pounding out of his chest. What is he doing? Jongin wouldn't even be taking this risk if he wasn't nearly set for next semester, too. Less than a year, and he's out. It's unprofessional, but. Is it so bad to want Yifan the way he does?

“Of course, yeah, sorry. I guess I'll see you tonight?” Yifan sounds hopeful, pleased, and it pulls the corners of Jongin's mouth up.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you will.”

He stands for a second after Yifan hangs up, just staring at the scuffed up butt at his feet. He's got four hours until the time of their regular meet up. He's gonna need another smoke.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin has never felt so out of place in his life. He'd known that Yifan's company was well-known, but he'd never expected this. The lobby of Yifan's building is enormous, all glass and steel and polished floors and Jongin feels like a schlub in his jeans and jacket. He approaches the front desk and clears his throat. “I'm, uh, here to see Mr. Wu?” he says.

She gives him a slow, perplexed once-over. “Your name, please?”

“Kim Kai.”

He can't help the tiny bite of irritation when she's surprised to find his name in her schedule. “Alright,” she says. “He's on the second floor. I'll let him know you're on your way.”

He nods his thanks and makes his way up the wide staircase, up shifting uncomfortably in his jeans and fidgeting and _God_ he's nervous. He's never gone to see a client before. It takes a certain level of trust for Yifan to bring him here. He can't even believe that he's here.

He has to make his way past another receptionist and he's stopped by an assistant before he finally makes it to Yifan's office. The shades are drawn and the door is thick, polished wood. A shiny sign by the door proclaims him _Wu Yifan, CEO_. Jongin takes a deep breath, and he knocks.

Yifan looks tired. Every time Jongin's seen him, he's been impeccably put together, even when he's dressed casually, and Jongin knows from how carefully Yifan looks after his skin after his showers that it's important to him. Now, though, there are dark circles under his eyes and his skin looks rough. “Minjung,” Yifan says briskly. “Hold my calls, please.” He slings a hand around Jongin's shoulders like he's greeting an old friend he hasn't seen in months. He pulls Jongin inside and shuts the door behind them.

Jongin doesn't waste any time at all. He slides his hands up Yifan's chest and crowds him back against his expensive desk, mouth against his jawline. He can feel stubble against his lips, more proof of how long it's been since Yifan has had a chance to think about anything except work. “Hi,” he breathes, and he's already pulling at the tails of Yifan's shirt, fighting with his belt. He's here, he wants to make the most of this.

Yifan laughs, and even that sounds worn down. One hand comes up to cup the back of Jongin's head, the other pushing down the waistband of Jongin's jeans. “If I didn't know any better, I'd – ” He pauses, and Jongin delights in the way that his eyes go wide and his jaw works. “Wait. Did you?”

“See for yourself,” Jongin says, doing his best to sound coy. He doesn't quite think he makes it there, though, and Yifan swallows. He takes his time unbuttoning Jongin's jeans and then slowly slides his fingers down under the waistband to curve around Jongin's ass. The shuddering breath that Yifan takes as his hand skates across nylon is utterly and completely gratifying.

Jongin's had clients ask him to wear things before, but this, again, is different. Yifan had only mentioned it in passing, once, turning red right to the tips of his ears before hastily changing the subject, but Jongin had filed it away. Clients like it, when you remember things. It makes them feel special, makes them feel generous, but that's not why Jongin had done it. And that's a dangerous realization.

“Can I – ” Now it's Yifan who's eager, but before he can shove Jongin's jeans all the way off, Jongin drops to his knees.

“Wait,” he says, and it's almost a question.

Yifan's hands flutter around uncertainly before he lets them rest against Jongin's shoulders and he nods. “Alright,” he says, a bit shakily, but when Jongin smiles up at him, he grins back, all gums. He's already nearly hard, and he lets out a little pleased noise when Jongin tugs his cock out, letting his weight settle back against the desk. “I trust you.”

The breath catches in Jongin's throat and he glances up at Yifan, wordless. Oh. He supposes Yifan must, if he's letting Jongin come here for this. It won't help Yifan's reputation if his secretary is indiscreet and lets slip a story about this rendezvous, but Yifan is willing to risk it. Yifan stares back down at him, unreadable, until Jongin can't stand it and lets his eyes drop again.

Jongin's never been any good with his words. He leans in and nips at the soft flesh of Yifan's belly just to feel his cock jump in his hand. Yifan rewards him by threading his hand into his hair and stroking gently, and Jongin sighs.

It's not long before Jongin's got Yifan stroked to full hardness and the condom rolled on, and he swallows him down in one smooth motion. He doesn't really ever get tired of how responsive Yifan is, even through a layer of latex. Jongin drags his fingernails down Yifan's thigh, eyes shut as Yifan grunts, fucking up into his mouth in tiny jerks. He can't tell if it's his skill or what he's wearing under his jeans, but Yifan is so worked up already. “Kai, _please_ ,” he says finally, and Jongin lets his cock slide from his mouth and stands again.

Patience gone, Yifan spins them around so that Jongin is the one pressed up against the desk. His jeans are somewhere around his knees and Yifan groans, low and in the back of his throat. “I can't believe you remembered,” he says, so low Jongin can barely hear him. Jongin laughs and kicks his shoes and jeans off so that he's just standing in front of Yifan, left wearing just the tights.

Jongin's done some things for clients that don't do a whole lot for him personally, but this feels a little different. He knows that Yifan can clearly see his dick through the sheer tights, half hard and pressing the fabric out. “That's why they pay me the big bucks,” Jongin says weakly, and then Yifan is hoisting him up on the desk, making him yelp.

Yifan drags one big hand down his thigh and anchors it around his knee, leaning in to press his mouth against Jongin's knee. It's less a kiss and more Yifan mouthing at his knee, his breath short. He's _so_ into it, Jongin marvels. He can see where Yifan's cock curves up underneath his shirttails, so hard and flushed, and his eyes are already hazy with want. Jongin licks over his lips, his hands clenching against the edge of the desk. He wants _so badly_ to reach for Yifan and pull him in, but Yifan still has work to do after this, so Jongin swallows it down and lets his head tip back as he groans.

Blunt nails catch on the sheer fabric as Yifan slides his hands up Jongin's thighs again, and this time his mouth follows the movement. He traces a warm, damp line up Jongin's leg to the crook of his leg. Jongin is hard now, and he almost whimpers under Yifan's attention.

He's not the only one who's holding back. No matter how badly Jongin might want it, Yifan keeps his mouth to himself. He noses maddeningly against Jongin's cock, making him squirm. Maybe it's selfish, but Jongin loves the attention that Yifan lavishes on him. He gets off on getting Jongin off, and Jongin's happy to return the favour by doing something special for him. But still, as nice as this is, Jongin's getting barely any friction and he thinks he might die. “Yifan,” he says breathlessly. “Don't be a goddamn tease.”

He realizes his mistake as soon as he's said it, Yifan's shoulders stiffening as he straightens a little. Jongin resists the urge to lock his heels around him and keep him from pulling away. “It was on the door?” he says weakly, and Yifan nods slowly. “I'm sorry, I didn't – ” There's an odd shift of emotions behind his eyes, but it's too fast for Jongin to read.

Yifan bends to press a kiss to Jongin's chin, perilously close to his mouth, and he brings a hand up to cup Jongin's cock through the tights. He brushes his thumb against the growing wet spot in the fabric where the precome soaks through, and Jongin groans. “It's okay,” he says. “It's just strange. Hearing it from you.”

Hesitantly, Jongin squeezes his knees around Yifan's hips a little and bumps his nose against Yifan's cheek. It's too affectionate, too intimate, but he doesn't know what to say, and he can't resist. Tonight's been a long night of things he shouldn't do, anyway.

Yifan laughs a little, and then both his hands are between Jongin's legs again. He pinches the fabric of the tight between his fingers and Jongin can't figure out what he's doing until the flimsy fabric is tearing open and he reaches in to stroke Jongin's cock for real. Jongin's head hits Yifan's desk with a thump, his eyes sliding shut. _Finally_. Of course, it doesn't last. Yifan only jerks him to full hardness and then he's fumbling with the lube Jongin had carried tucked into his pocket. He teases Jongin, brushing his knuckles up against the underside of his cock before his hand slides lower.

It doesn't surprise him when Yifan stretches him open with the same agonizing slowness he's always used. He's always methodical, and it doesn't seem like that changes even when they're on a deadline. Jongin would be annoyed by the way that he keeps pausing to close his teeth on Jongin's thigh, pulling at the sheer dark fabric of his tights, but god, the way that Yifan keeps looking at him.

Yifan fucks him with determined evenness, Jongin's face pressed into the shiny, polished wooden surface of the desk. He can't stop touching Jongin's thighs, his ass through the tights, and it's kind of exciting, the way that just the sight of them can make Yifan this hard. Even pinned to the desk, he pushes his hips up eagerly into Yifan's thrusts, his little choked off moans sounding in counterpart to Yifan's voice, low and uncontrolled. “Jesus Christ,” Yifan mutters into the curve of Jongin's shoulder, and Jongin clenches tight around him. “You're amazing.” Jongin can't help but shudder.

He snakes a hand down between his legs, doing his awkward best to jerk himself off through the tights. He can't think, Yifan holding him down until he's breathless and focused on nothing but the way Yifan stretches him open so well. He knows he's done when one of Yifan's hands comes up to cover his and Jongin lets Yifan set the pace. He comes hard and messily, sobbing into the air as he ruins what's left of the tights.

Yifan doesn't last much longer. Jongin lays under him, limp and pliant, until Yifan grunts and thrusts in deep one last time. Jongin likes the weight of him as he rests against him, the both of them trying to catch their breath. “I like this kind of house call,” Yifan says, voice muffled against Jongin's back. He takes his time getting up, but once he's up, he doesn't hesitate to help Jongin peel off his sticky tights.

“I think you mean booty call,” Jongin says dryly. He straightens slowly, wincing a little bit. He's going to have bruises on his hips from where he'd been pressed against the desk, and the thought makes him smile a little as he touches his fingers against his tender skin. Yifan is collecting his jeans for him when Jongin speaks again. “Jongin,” he says, quickly, so he can't stop himself. “My name is Jongin.”

Yifan pauses, jeans in hand and head tipped to one side. “Holy shit,” he says, eyes wide. “I thought you looked familiar. Little Kim Jongin. Jongdae's cousin.” He hands Jongin's pants over and shakes his head. “You grew up a bit. Wow.”

“Just a little,” Jongin agrees. Yifan laughs.

Jongin shimmies into his jeans and then turns to Yifan, helping him set himself in order. His shirt is irrevocably rumpled, but he's got a jacket, so Jongin thinks it'll be fine. Lip between his teeth, he does his best to fix Yifan's hair for him. “This isn't really in your job description, is it?” Yifan asks slowly, catching one of Jongin's wrists in his hand and just holding it. From the way that he's looking at Jongin, he doesn't just mean the hair-styling.

“Not really,” Jongin mutters. He looks down at his bare feet against Yifan's expensive carpet, but he can't bring himself to pull out of Yifan's grip and find his shoes.

When Yifan doesn't immediately speak, Jongin's eyes flick up to meet his. Yifan looks thoughtful, and he relinquishes Jongin's arm. “You'd better go,” he says reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees. He stuffs his socks into his pocket and toes on his sneakers. His cheeks feel hot. “Wouldn't want you to be stuck here all night.”

It's not perfect, but Yifan does look a bit better than he had before. Jongin resists the urge to brush his fingers across the dark circles under Yifan's eyes. “Jongin,” Yifan says, and before Jongin's got the chance to reply, Yifan presses his lips to his forehead in a quick kiss. “See you next week?”

It takes Jongin a few seconds to find his voice. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

He makes his way back out of the building almost in a daze, and on the train ride home, he stares out the dark windows, watching the walls flash by. He may be sitting down, but he feels so unsteady. _have fun?_ Zitao texts him, and Jongin deletes it without answering. He doesn't know how to answer that anyway.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin's still unbalanced when his weekly appointment with Joonmyun rolls around two days later. Joonmyun is so gentle with him that Jongin can't help but wonder if he can somehow tell. He's always done his best to be professional, but as Sehun never fails to gleefully remind him, he's kind of terrible at hiding the way he feels. Joonmyun's cleaned him up carefully, and now they're curled up on the bed, Jongin listening to Joonmyun's heartbeat as their time winds down. “Kai,” Joonmyun says thoughtfully. “What would you do if you could leave this life?”

There it is again. Sometimes, Jongin thinks that Joonmyun likes the idea of him better than he likes Jongin himself. His mouth twists. “I don't know what you mean, hyung,” he says. “It's not that bad.” It's not like it's a life sentence, either. He's almost paid for his last semester of school, and then he'll probably take his leave. New beginnings and all that.

“Yes,” Joonmyun says, petting Jongin's hair. “But what would you _do_?” When Jongin looks up, he finds Joonmyun's eyes on him, steady and warm, but he still gets the feeling that Joonmyun isn't really listening to him at all.

Jongin shrugs a shoulder. “I don't know yet,” he admits. “I like writing. Maybe editing? Or teaching could be cool.”

He's startled by Joonmyun's fingers at his chin, tilting his head up. “Kai,” he says quietly. “What if I had a way out for you?”

A way out? Jongin narrows his eyes. “Um,” he says. “I'm not sure I need a way out.”

Joonmyun's hand is insistent, still stroking through Jongin's hair. “I could cover your last semester, if you wanted,” he says. “You'd only have to see me, you'd be free from this for the rest of your school year. Or, well, maybe longer. Would you like that?”

 _No_ , Jongin thinks. Joonmyun's watching him, benevolent smile on his face, like he thinks that he's doing Jongin this huge favour by offering to buy him out. Jongin's stomach clenches. Joonmyun isn't that much better than all the rest of them, really. “Can I think about it?” Jongin asks.

“Of course,” Joonmyun says. He's much better than Jongin at this game. He only looks disappointed for a fraction of a second when Jongin pulls away from him to sit up. “Take your time.”

When he gets up to leave, he straightens his tie and flashes a broad smile. Jongin had to remind himself not to flinch when Joonmyun pulls him down to kiss his forehead. “Don't think too long,” he warns. “This offer isn't around forever.” His tone is light, but that doesn't mean he's not serious. He squeezes Joonmyun's shoulder and then slips out the door.

When he's gone, Jongin flops back on the bed, covering his face in his hands. This was really not a complication he needed right now. His arrangement with Joonmyun had been simple, it's always easiest when the client likes you, but this is something he never wanted. It feels a little too close to ownership, and that makes Jongin feel restless and uncomfortable.

He thinks, for a second, about Yifan. He can't help but wonder what Yifan would say, if he knew about this offer. Jongin stares up at the ceiling, his lip caught between his teeth. It's silly, really, but there's a very hopeful little part of Jongin that wants this to bother Yifan. He's just a client, Jongin shouldn't be nearly this attached, but, well. There's just this part of him that can't let go.

Jongin scrubs at his eyes and sits up to get dressed. He seriously needs to get some sleep if he's thinking stupid stuff like this. It's just a job, Kim. Keep it together. He looks down at the fading bruises on his hips and presses his lips together tightly. It's just his job.

 

 

-

 

 

The pot lid hits the ground with a clatter, and Chanyeol freezes, eyes wide. “You are a menace,” Baekhyun tells him. The idea had been to get together and make dinner, a chance to take a break from all of their studying for their exams and get to hang out. Of course, that had gone a bit sideways. Having Chanyeol in the kitchen is a bit like having a puppy underfoot: he tries really hard to be helpful but mostly just trips everyone up and steals scraps.

“I'm sorry,” Chanyeol says, licking his fingertips clean. He doesn't look very sorry, really. “It was hot.”

“Hence the oven mitts, genius,” Baekhyun replies, holding them up. He pummels Chanyeol with them until he's yelping with laughter, doing his best to fend Baekhyun off as he stoops to pick the still hot lid up again. “You're banished,” Baekhyun declares, and Jongin laughs at the way that Chanyeol's nose wrinkles. “You too,” Baekhyun says to Jongin, waving at him imperiously with one be-mittened hand. “Don't think I didn't see you stealing a taste. You're useless, the both of you.”

By the fridge, Sehun freezes. “Wait...” he says slowly, the realization sinking in. “Hey!”

Baekhyun grins, sunny and sharp. “I've appointed you my new assistant,” he says. “Don't let me down.”

As Jongin and Chanyeol escape the kitchen, Jongin catches one last look of Sehun, a sullen twist to his mouth as Baekhyun shoves a wooden spoon into his hand. Sucker.

Chanyeol throws himself down on Jongin's couch and grimaces, fishing around underneath himself until he comes up with a phone. “Work text,” he says. “I just felt it go off.” He holds it out to Jongin but before he hands it over, he frowns. “Hey, I thought only Zitao had this number,” he says.

Jongin makes a futile grab for the phone but Chanyeol is nimble, holding it out of Jongin's reach with one long arm. “It's nothing,” Jongin says, but the harder he tries to get it back, the broader Chanyeol's smile grows.

“Who's this?” he sing-songs, and he squints down at the screen. “Yifan. Is he hot?” His eyes get big. “Is he a client?”

He's finally victorious, pinning Chanyeol's head against the arm of the couch with one elbow as he wrestles the phone out of Chanyeol's grip. “It's nothing,” he says again, but even he knows it sounds pretty weak. “It's just. Y'know.”

Chanyeol gives him a second to finish the thought, and squints at him when he doesn't. “I thought that was against the rules,” he says.

There's no good answer, to that, so Jongin just shrugs, avoiding Chanyeol's eyes. If he wanted to talk about it, and he _doesn't_ , the last person in the world he'd want to talk to is Chanyeol. “Whatever,” Chanyeol says after a second, a flash of hurt in his eyes. He elbows Jongin off him and then ruffles his hair just for good measure. It's not so much affectionate as it is Chanyeol's vengeance, leaving Jongin with his thick bangs hanging in his eyes. “Just don't be stupid.”

He leaves Jongin on the couch and heads back into the kitchen. Jongin listens to the noise they make with half an ear as he bends over his phone. _how's the studying going?_ Jongin almost wants to laugh. His john is asking him about his schoolwork. This is so surreal. And it's even worse because Jongin thinks that Yifan is genuinely interested. He remembers when Jongin tells him things, like if he says he's been studying for a test, next week Yifan asks him how it went. It's kind of nice, in a way that makes Jongin feel on edge. This isn't how these things are supposed to work.

That doesn't seem to matter to the flood of warmth in his chest every time Yifan texts him, though. From the kitchen, he can hear Chanyeol and Baekhyun arguing about something, and Sehun pokes his head out the doorway wearily. “Help me,” he mouths, and then delicate fingers hook in his shirt collar and drag him back into the kitchen. Jongin _could_ , but that seems less fun. He shoots off a quick reply to Yifan and then he sits for a second, phone resting against his chest. He knows this will have to stop sometime but maybe, for now, he can enjoy this.

 

 

-

 

 

“You know,” Jongdae says around a mouthful of lettuce, “I was halfway worried that you'd drowned under your schoolwork. I haven't heard from you in a month.” He raises his eyebrow at Jongin meaningfully.

Jongin grimaces, but he knows he deserved that. He _has_ gotten caught up with things lately, with his schoolwork and, well. Other things too. He thinks of the second phone in his pocket, and how he never has it turned off anymore. “It's my last year,” he protests. “Shouldn't I be busy?”

“Too busy for your favourite hyung?” Jongdae replies, all mock affront. He lays a hand over his heart. “That cuts me deep, Jongin-ah.” His tone is easy, but the way that he jabs the tongs into the meat cooking right in front of of Jongin makes him think that he's probably a little annoyed.

There's no way that Jongin can explain himself, not without exposing the oh, tiny secret he has about having sex for money. He's never told Jongdae, it just feels too close to telling his parents, and he's not even going to _think_ about that. “Are you my favourite hyung?” Jongin asks, and Jongdae eyes him darkly. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No, it won't,” Jongdae agrees. He smiles in that disarming way that Jongin has long learned means that there is some vengeance coming. Oh boy. If Jongin doesn't want Jongdae wiggling all his secrets out of him, he has to act, and fast.

He pulls out his best (only) tactic: distraction. “How's the new job going?” he asks. He turns over the meat like a dutiful dongsaeng and then gestures for Jongdae to take some. “Is tax law everything you've ever dreamed of?”

“The dreamiest,” Jongdae laughs. “I never knew adulthood could be so exciting.” He takes a hefty sip from his soju and Jongin eyes him warily. “I'm kidding, don't look so worried. The days are long, but it's not so hard. And I'm good at it.” He pauses with the glass at his mouth. “Oh, speaking of boring adults, you'll never guess who I ran into the other day.”

“Who?” Jongin asks around a mouthful of food. Bad manners, but Jongdae has never been the most polite. It's probably why he actually is Jongin's favourite hyung.

“Wu Yifan. Remember him?” Jongdae asks, eyes sly. He snorts. “Of course you do. You had the world's biggest crush on him and he only ever said two words to you.”

“Hyung,” Jongin whines. He hunches his shoulders, doing his best to shrink down and hide. He's so _embarrassing_.

“You know, it's the weirdest thing, actually. He asked me how you were.” Jongin freezes, his eyes going wide as his throat works. There's a part of him, small but pretty noisy, that's pointing out the fact that Yifan had been asking about him, but the rest of him is mostly terrified. Yifan has always been a pretty discreet customer, but what if he'd let it slip? That feels a little bit like Jongin's worst nightmare come to life.

“Oh?” Jongin says, feigning nonchalance. It doesn't work. Jongdae may be bent over a bowl, chopsticks in his mouth, but his eyes on Jongin are sharp. “That's funny. I didn't think he even knew my name.”

Jongdae licks his lips clean. “Neither did I,” he says, his expression thoughtful. “And, you know, he made just the same deer-in-headlights face as you did when I asked him about it.”

Jongin forces a wobbly smile and laughs, stuffing his mouth with food. If he's eating, Jongdae can't question him. He'd really rather not deal with questions.

“So, nothing, huh? You're not even going to give me a hint?” Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “If Yifan had even blinked in your direction back in high school you would've popped a boner that was visible from the moon, and now you're all casual about it?” He squints. “I don't buy it.”

This is unfair. The soju makes Jongdae louder, and Jongin turns red, hiding his face. Talking about his moon boners in public, thanks a lot, hyung. “It's been like eight years, give me a little credit. I've grown lot since then.”

At the word 'grown', Jongdae grins and pointedly looks down in the direction of Jongin's crotch and now Jongin remembers why he doesn't get drinks with him anymore. He's so embarrassing. “Well,” Jongdae says. “I can always ask Yifan, I guess. He's got a spine made of marshmallow. I can break him in a heartbeat.”

“Hyung,” Jongin says desperately. “ _Please_.” Going after Yifan is even worse, and that might be because he's scared of what Yifan will say in more than one way.

They sit in silence for a long moment, but Jongin can feel the weight of Jongdae's gaze on him. “There's something you're not telling me, Jongin-ah,” Jongdae says finally. “I'm just going to let it slide right now.” Some of the tension fades from Jongin and he lets his shoulders drop. “But someday very soon you're going to spill your guts.” He points a finger at Jongin. “Mark my words.”

Jongin stares at him, wordless and a little bit nervous, until Jongdae flashes another smile at him. Jongin is fairly certain that Jongdae got all the bite in this family. “Deal,” Jongin says, although it almost sounds like a question. He carefully nudges the soju bottle away from him. Tonight is not a night he needs to be drunk, that's for sure.

“Should I be worried?” Jongdae asks after a second. The sharpness of his eyes has softened.

“No,” Jongin says, although he's not sure that's the truth. “I can handle it.” He puts as much confidence into his words as he can. Feelings are messy enough as is, and Jongin's never been very good with them. When he likes someone, he _really_ likes someone. There's not really any in between. As much as he hates to admit it, it's not indifference he's feeling for Yifan. And that's kind of really scary. Jongdae's eyebrows climb his forehead and his lips tighten. “Really,” Jongin insists. “I promise.”

“Debatable,” Jongdae tells him. He quickly folds a piece of meat up in a lettuce leaf and holds it in front of Jongin's nose. “Eat, eat. You're a growing boy, blah blah blah.” Jongin's twenty two, he's fairly certain he's done growing, but he opens his mouth obediently and lets Jongdae stuff the food in.

He listens to Jongdae talk about his coworkers, and Jongin can't help but smile at him as he chews. In the end, Jongdae's always been good to him. They need to do this more often. Jongdae tosses back another shot and slams the glass down, rattling the dishes on the table. Well. Maybe without the soju.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin has been looking forward to this appointment all week. His exams are finally over and now he's got the chance to really unwind and relax. With Yifan. In a way, though, he's starting to worry about every appointment. Each one is one step closer to paying off his school and quitting, which is what he wants, right? But it's also one step closer to not seeing Yifan anymore, which is...not something he wants.

It's awful, how involved he is now. He's lucky that he's got a friend in Zitao, because this is the absolute worst situation he could be in. You don't get attached to clients, that's the whole _point_. And Jongin's never struggled with this, before now. It's so hard not to, when Yifan handles him so carefully, when he curls his body around Jongin's in bed, nose pressed to his hairline as he asks soft questions about his day. Jongin's never had a client like Yifan.

When he opens the door to a smiling Yifan, he doesn't even get a hello. What he gets instead is a big hand curled around the back of his head and a kiss pressed to the hinge of his jaw. “Hi,” Jongin breathes, his fingers tightening in the front of Yifan's shirt.

“How does it feel to be free?” Yifan asks, and Jongin's grin gets so wide. Yifan always remembers. “No more pencils, no more books – ”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jongin groans, pushing Yifan away. He closes the door and then Yifan wraps his arms around his waist and drags him to the bed. Jongin lets him, he's always liked the way Yifan can throw him around. “You suck.”

He settles himself in between Yifan's thighs, carefully loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, not teasing, just nice and slow, pausing only to lay a gentle, biting kiss to Yifan's pale chest when it's exposed. “How did it go?” Yifan asks. His hands trace slow lines up and down Jongin's ribs, toying with the hem of Jongin's shirt but never quite pulling it up. “You said you didn't know about European History.”

“I killed it,” Jongin says, and he can't help the relish with which he says it. He'd spent every spare minute he'd had studying for it, and when the exam had been no stress, it'd felt amazing.

“I'm so proud of you,” Yifan says, voice low, and he grips Jongin's waist, smiling. It sets off a thrill down Jongin's spine. Yifan opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, his brow furrowing a little, but he must decide against it. He settles instead for pushing his hand up Jongin's chest, making Jongin shiver as he pulls his shirt over his head.

It'd be so nice right now, if he could kiss Yifan. Jongin wants to, a lot. His lips look all nice and plush. Jongin thinks it would be nice. Good thing he's a professional. Jongin avoids Yifan's eyes and bends to the task of getting rid of all of Yifan's clothes. He likes how easy Yifan makes it, the way he lets Jongin pull his arm out of his shirt and then catches his wrist, pressing his lips to Jongin's palm. Jongin shouldn't let him do it, but he does, fighting off a blush.

He ends up kneeling by the bed between Yifan's legs with his cock in his mouth. He goes slow, teasing Yifan with his lips and tongue until his fingers tighten in Jongin's hair and he gasps for breath. He pulls off to close his teeth on the soft inside of Yifan's thigh, hard enough that Yifan hisses. It might even leave a mark. Jongin jerks Yifan off slowly, easy, and when he meets his eyes again they're dark with desire. There's something about the way that he's cradling Jongin's head that makes Jongin speak before he can swallow the words back down. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Of course,” Yifan says immediately, and Jongin presses his forehead to Yifan's thigh, trying to steady himself. The gentleness of Yifan's hands helps, a little.

Jongin's hand stills, and he straightens. “I want you to come on my face,” he says.

Yifan's mouth falls open and he groans quietly, eyes wide. Jongin is doing his best not to dwell on the magnitude of what he's just asked for, how far it is off the list of acceptable acts and the fact that he'd asked for it, too. _This isn't about you, Kim_ , Jongin reminds himself, but Yifan's cock jumps in his hand and he watches him swallow hard. “You want that?” Yifan asks hoarsely. Jongin can only nod. “Alright. Okay.”

When Jongin peels the condom off, Yifan's breath hitches. Jongin sits back on his heels and like this, Yifan seems so tall, but his gaze is fixed down on Jongin, his fingers brushing against Jongin's jaw. He watches the way that Yifan's eyes move down to Jongin's cock, curving up against his belly. Yifan curls his fingers around the base of his dick, looking down at Jongin. “You want this,” he says, like he's amazed and Jongin raises an eyebrow at him. He's nearly vibrating with anticipation, digging his fingers into his thigh, but Yifan doesn't let him down.

He's quiet as he strokes himself, and it really doesn't take him long. He's always fallen to pieces under Jongin's mouth, and it's his mouth that he's staring at now. He slides his thumb across Jongin's lips and Jongin closes his eyes. He wishes that he could have it both ways, be able to watch Yifan come apart because of him, but this is even better.

Yifan grunts softly and then Jongin feels it, sticky heat painting stripes across the bridge of his nose and his parted lips. It makes Jongin shudder, the movement travelling through his whole body, and he can barely resist the urge to jerk off, hard and fast. His breath is short and his body feels like he's on fire. He's so hard he aches, and when he opens his eyes again, Yifan is staring down at him. He looks wrecked, hands shaking as he pulls Jongin to his feet. “You look...” He drags a finger through the mess on Jongin's lips and Jongin nearly sobs.

“Please,” Jongin says, even though he's not sure what he's begging for. Yifan kisses him, too close to Jongin's mouth, and he must catch a taste of his own come, but he doesn't seem to care.

Jongin's cock is hard and leaking, but when Yifan pushes a hand down between them, he just curls a hand around the base and squeezes. “Hold on,” Yifan murmurs, and Jongin wants to snap, but he bites his lip and nods, because it's Yifan, not because it's the job. He stands still as Yifan wipes his face clean, tongue darting out to lick across the corner of Jongin's mouth daringly. It's too much, but Jongin says nothing, his hands clenching against his thighs.

Yifan pulls him down on the bed and rolls him onto his side, hiking his thigh up on Yifan's hip. Like this, it's easy for Yifan to push his fingers into Jongin and crook them just right. It's intimate, too, and Jongin breathes hotly against the crook of Yifan's neck, his heel catching on the back of his calf. It's all too much, too much skin on skin, too much teasing, but Yifan seems determined to make the most of the time he needs to get hard again, and he's going to make Jongin suffer in the best way possible.

By the time Yifan pushes his cock in, Jongin is completely incoherent. He clutches at Yifan's biceps and whines at the stretch, at feeling so full. There's not much room for movement this way, but Jongin feels everything. He watches Yifan through half-lidded eyes, taking in the flush of his cheeks and the intensity of his gaze. Yifan strokes him slowly, in time with the even thrusts of his hips, just shy of enough friction to get Jongin where he needs. Yifan's already come once, he's got the luxury of taking his time, but Jongin is desperate for it. “Yifan,” he gasps, and he digs his teeth into Yifan's shoulder even as his hips jerk up into his hand. “Fuck, please, _please_.”

“You're so good for me,” Yifan mutters, and Jongin melts against him as he finally starts jerking him off in earnest, fast and tight. Jongin comes with his face pressed against Yifan's shoulder, nearly sobbing Yifan's name over and over. He hangs on to Yifan as he comes down, rolling his hips to match his lazy pace. It takes Yifan a few minutes longer to get there, but Jongin likes this, likes being pressed up against Yifan even if the drag of his cock makes Jongin twitch and shudder with sensitivity.

Yifan's fingers tighten on Jongin's hip when he comes. He clenches his eyes shut and when he opens them again, smiling, he looks completely dazed. “How's that for a reward,” he says, and Jongin snorts, burying his face in Yifan's chest.

“I never want to move again,” he says, and he _means_ it. He's not sure he can feel his legs right now. He shouldn't think it, but he could get used to this.

He hisses when Yifan pulls out and gets rid of the condom, but then Yifan is right back again, tugging Jongin up against his chest. “I've still got some time on the clock, right?” Yifan asks. “How about we nap?”

Jongin never falls asleep on the job. It's not specifically against the rules, but it is a bad idea. Better to be aware of what's happening at all times. “Alright,” Jongin says. What can it hurt, anyway? He's wiped out and Yifan is broad and warm and this is so comfortable.

He settles his head on Yifan's chest, and as he's drifting off, he feels rather than hears Yifan mumble something that he can't quite make out. His hand curves around the top of Jongin's head and Jongin smiles, curling in closer.

 

 

-

 

 

Yifan's still there when Jongin wakes up, and that pleases him, even if it probably shouldn't. He takes his time sliding out from underneath Yifan's arm and straightening, yawning. He feels really well-rested after that nap, and he wonders if it's got anything to do with the heartbeat that lulled him to sleep. It's hard enough for him to wake up in the morning after a full night's sleep, much less after a quick nap. Maybe Yifan's his lucky charm.

He reaches for his phone and his eyes snap wide open. Or, maybe it's got something to do with how they'd been asleep _all night_. “Holy shit,” Jongin gasps. There's a couple of missed texts on his phone, including one from Zitao ( _covered for you. you should take him out the back in the morning_ ) and another from Baekhyun ( _where are you? coffee's getting cold_ ). “Oh no, no, no, no.” They were supposed to meet up hours ago. Baekhyun is going to be so pissed off.

While he's technically allowed to stay the night in his room, neither of them should really be here. It's not only against the rules, it's a complete mistake. Yifan is a _client_. Jongin's been letting himself get caught up in everything, and he's forgotten that fundamental fact. Yifan pays him for this. It's a job, nothing more.

Jongin rubs a hand across his face and then he leans over the bed. “Wake up.” He shakes Yifan's shoulder once, then again, with more force. “Wake _up_. It's Thursday.”

It takes Yifan several long moments before he cracks an eyelid, and he doesn't look pleased about it. He seems to be as much of a morning person as Jongin is. “What are you talking about?” he asks, voice blurred with sleep. “No it's not.”

“It is,” Jongin says, pulling insistently at Yifan's arm and trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. This is getting way out of hand. “I have to. Don't you have work? Come _on_.”

Yifan's hair is a mess, and he pulls at it absently, blinking blearily. “I'm the CEO,” he reminds Jongin. “I can take time off whenever I want.” He frowns. “This won't get you in trouble, will it?” Jongin's chest aches at the genuine concern in Yifan's expression. “I don't want to get you in trouble.”

Jongin turns away to pull on his boxer briefs, because he knows he can't cover up the way his mouth twists. “It's fine,” he says. “But we should go.” He tugs his jeans up over his hips and buttons them, turning to speak to Yifan over his shoulder. “I won't charge you for the whole night, don't worry.”

“Uh.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yifan grip the sheets for a second. “I wasn't. It doesn't matter.”

The thing is, though, that it does. The money always matters. Jongin thinks about last night, and he thinks about Joonmyun's offer, and suddenly, he feels a bit reckless. “You know,” he says, “I had this client in the other day.” Maybe it's wishful thinking, but Jongin could swear he sees Yifan narrow his eyes a little at that. “He offered to pay off the rest of my tuition if I agree to be, like, exclusive.”

He can't help but watch Yifan for a reaction. He doesn't get much of one, but Yifan's mouth tightens as he pulls up his slacks. “Oh?” Yifan asks. His voice is steady but he's probably buckling his belt with more force than is necessary.

“Funny, you know?” Jongin tugs on his shirt and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it. He's all nerves.

“Well,” Yifan shrugs, “I guess I can't buy your time forever.” Jongin stops dead, and he feels a little bit like he's just been slugged in the gut. No, he feels a lot like that. He can't believe he was so _stupid_. It's not the first time that he's met a client who's got no idea how to treat an escort and who ends up perilously close to the boyfriend line. This is just the first time that he's indulged it, let it happen. Stupid. So stupid.

Jongin bites his lip, and for the first time, he feels genuinely embarrassed by what Yifan's said. “I guess you're right,” he says, more coldly than he means, and the way that Yifan looks so taken aback is a tiny bit gratifying right now.

They finish dressing in silence, and when Yifan strokes a hand down the back of Jongin's neck, he just stills and waits for it to stop. It's rude to act like this, and it's sloppy and unprofessional, but at this point, Jongin can't help it. Everything aches, especially in his ribcage, and that previous restfulness is gone, erased by a handful of words. Yifan pulls his hand away and it hovers in the air before he lets it drop. He looks hurt, and that makes something rattle around in Jongin's chest painfully.

He leads Yifan out the back door, because even if he trusts Yixing, he'd still rather not risk it, and when they're outside, Yifan smooths a hand down his rumpled shirtfront. “I'll see you next week?” he asks, and Jongin hates the way that his heart clenches. He looks so much like the Yifan he'd met on the first night, hesitant, unsure.

“Sure,” Jongin says, although at this point, he's not sure if it's even true anymore. He waves Yifan off and then jogs towards the nearest bus stop. There's a nagging ache behind his eyes that he's determined to ignore. His head throbs and he just feels like he's that fourteen year old kid again, thinking too hard about things he can't have. He really should've known better.

 

 

-

 

 

He sees Joonmyun the next day for their regular day, and Jongin stops him at the door, one hand against Joonmyun's chest. “I've thought about it,” he says, and Joonmyun tips his chin up, smiling. He'd never even considered anything but a yes, Jongin realizes, and that just makes his decision that much easier. “I have to say no.”

Joonmyun's mouth falls open for a second, but he recovers quickly. “Ah. Can I...ask why?” He smiles tightly.

“I appreciate the offer,” Jongin says, because he does. He knows that Joonmyun means well, even if he's going about it completely the wrong way. “But I've already made enough to pay for my last semester. It would be unfair.”

Joonmyun's eyebrows flick up. “Unfair?” he asks. “I like you. I thought it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.” His eyes narrow. “Has someone given you a better offer? I can pay you more.”

“No,” Jongin says, more bitterly than he really meant. “I'm leaving the house, hyung.” It's something he's been thinking about idly for weeks, and more seriously in the past day or two. He's got the money, what's the point of sticking around? It would've been nice to save a bit more up, but Jongin doesn't think he can stand it anymore. “I think I'm done with the job.”

The sour way Joonmyun's mouth tightens startles him. “I understand,” he says, but he doesn't sound all that understanding at all. Joonmyun is a guy used to getting what he wants with the money he has, and Jongin had kind of hoped that they could leave things on a better note than this, but, well.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” Jongin says, a little bit plaintive, and Joonmyun's eyes soften. He always did like a little bit of flattery.

He reaches out and squeezes Jongin's wrist. “I'm going to miss you,” he says. Jongin thinks about how small Joonmyun's hand is. “I wish you well.”

“I'm gonna miss you too, hyung,” Jongin says, and it surprises him, how true it is. Joonmyun has been a constant, steady presence in Jongin's life for nearly a year. And even if they're not really friends, it's going to be weird not to see him once a week.

They don't exchange numbers, and Jongin didn't expect they would. Joonmyun just pulls him into a quick hug, pulls his shirt straight for him, and then tells him to work hard. For a second, Jongin wonders if Joonmyun will start seeing someone else after him, but he knows it's not his business.

It's weird, when he's gone. Jongin hasn't had a Friday evening to himself in a really long time, and he feels a little bit lost. This is it, he's put the wheels in motion. Soon, he'll be done with this.

He heads downstairs to talk to Zitao about leaving. He's still got a few more appointments to go, and he'll have to fill out some paperwork, but he's pretty much done here.

The last thing he does is hand over his work phone. “Are you sure about this?” Zitao asks carefully. “I could give you his – ”

“No,” Jongin says sharply, and Zitao blinks at him. “No, I just.” He shoves the phone at him. “Take it. Please?”

Zitao's brows furrow. “Did something happen?”

Jongin shakes his head. He's not sure whether Zitao reads that as 'no, nothing happened' or 'I don't want to talk about it', but he accepts the phone without anymore questions. Jongin's grateful. He's been doing pretty well with not thinking about Yifan at all, about his big hands or his stupid smile, and he doesn't want to ruin a good streak.

He doesn't want to think about anything at all, right now. That seems easiest.

He's on the way out of the house with his bag when his personal phone vibrates. Sehun. _dude too bad u have sugar daddy time weve got brews and cod and ur missin out_.

Jongin is _never_ telling Sehun anything ever again _coming home_ , he texts back, quickly followed by _don't drink all the beer before i get there damnit_. At least, he supposes, he'll get to enjoy his first Friday night off.

 _sugar daddy get tired of ur fat ass?_ Jongin's used to Sehun's jibes but this one just hits a little bit too close to home, and he deletes the text, pocketing his phone.

Beer sounds like a good idea, right about now. Maybe if he's lucky, Chanyeol won't puke in the sink again. Jongin rubs his fingers across a bruise on his hip and he frowns. He could use a beer right now.

 

 

-

 

 

“So you're done, like, for real?” Baekhyun asks, eyebrows raised. “That's it?”

Jongin scrunches his nose up and shoves another bite in his mouth. “What?” he says. “What did you expect? Something big and dramatic?”

Deftly, Sehun snags a bite off Jongin's plate. “Isn't there like, some kind of hooker graduation?” he asks. “Do you get a little plaque that says how many dudes you banged and like a certificate for good blowjobs?” He squints a little. “Not that you'd get one of those.”

“Hey.” Jongin slaps Sehun hard enough that his chopsticks rattle out of his hand. “Shut up! I'm awesome at my job.”

“Not your job anymore,” Chanyeol points out, and Sehun scrambles to recover his chopsticks, punching Jongin in the knee. “Wait, what happened to that one guy? The one with the Chinese name?”

Even though his knee is throbbing, Jongin goes cold, staring down at his food. Chanyeol's never been any good with keeping anything to himself. “His name is Zitao,” Baekhyun says. He tugs on Chanyeol's hair. “Say it with me. Zi _tao_.” His pronunciation is shit, but Jongin doesn't bother to correct him. He's hoping that if he stays quiet and still enough, the conversation will move past him, and he'll never have to say anything at all.

“Not Zitao,” Chanyeol scowls, pushing Baekhyun's hand away. “Another one. Yifan, I think?”

Oh no. At this, Baekhyun leans in, intrigued. “Who's this Yifan, Jongin-ah,” he says, and he's got that awful wheedling tone to his voice that makes Jongin feel like he's about to spill all of his secrets. It's terrible.

“Nobody,” he says firmly, because it's true. Yifan is nobody. He's just a former client. That's all. Jongin clenches his hands in his lap and frowns.

“Oh, come on,” Baekhyun says. “You let Park Chanyeol know, but not me? I know you don't like him better.” His tone leaves no room for argument, even when Chanyeol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout. “Why haven't I heard about this before now?”

Jongin tosses his chopsticks down with a clatter. “Because he's _no one_ ,” he snaps, and he probably shouldn't be gratified by the way Baekhyun and Chanyeol both fall silent for a second. His food is half done, but he still gets to his feet anyway. “I have to go.”

Sehun stops him for a second, catching Jongin's shirt hem in his fingers. He doesn't say anything, but Jongin can see the question in his eyes. He shakes his head a little, pulling out of Sehun's grasp, and Sehun nods and shrugs.

“What?” Baekhyun says. “I thought we were gonna go out later.” Jongin throws some cash down on the table and turns for the door. “Jongin? Are you seriously running away right now?”

Jongin knows that this is a bad idea. It'll just make Baekhyun worry, make him corner him later until he was sure that Jongin's okay, but right now, he can't do this. It hurts. It _hurts_. Jongin presses the heel of his hand to his eyes as he rushes out of the restaurant. He's been trying so hard not to let it hurt, but it _does_. It had seemed like something real, when Yifan looked at him the way he did, touched him like he was something precious – but it wasn't. It never had been. Jongin can't help but feel a little bit betrayed.

He's halfway down the block when he gets a text. Baekhyun. _are you ok? do i need to chase after you like a drama heroine? I'll get my running shoes._ Even with hot tears prickling at the corners of Jongin's eyes, that makes him laugh a little.

 _i'm fine. don't worry hyung. go have fun tonight._ He'd only be a downer, anyway.

It's Jongin's own fault, anyway. He just wanted that teenage fantasy to be real so badly that he ignored the warning signs, ignored all of the rules, and now look where he is. It hurts, and it sucks, but he's got school again, soon, one last semester, and then he's out in the real world.

It's just that – he can't forget the warm weight of Yifan's hand curled around his or the way he looked at him, serious and intense. Amazing. He'd called Jongin amazing. Jongin wipes furiously at his eyes and sniffs, pushing it away. It was just a job, Kim. Get it together.

 

 

-

 

 

The semester passes more slowly than Jongin would like. This semester, it's Korean Literature he's got with Baekhyun, but it's still ungodly early, and Baekhyun still brings him a coffee every morning and still talks softly while Jongin is struggling to take notes. It's weird, not to be living that double life anymore. He has all sorts of free time, and that's kind of weird.

What's weirder is how his friends seem to be doing their level best to fill that time for him. He knows they're being all delicate with him, even Sehun, and that kind of sucks. Jongin doesn't like feeling fragile, and he likes it even worse when other people can tell. He knows they mean well, though. “Hey,” Baekhyun hisses, while their professor drones on about metaphors of some kind, “We're on for drinks tonight, right?”

Tonight, and three nights ago, and in between, Sehun has cornered him every single day after school to play video games or watch bad movies. Jongin's not dumb, he knows what they're doing. He appreciates it, though. “Do I have a choice?” Jongin asks.

“No,” Baekhyun says cheerfully. Jongin sighs, tipping his head to rest against Baekhyun's shoulder as he groans softly, and Baekhyun pats the back of his neck. “We are keeping you busy,” Baekhyun says. He bends forward to catch Jongin's eye. “Is it working?”

“It helps,” Jongin admits, and Baekhyun beams.

He'd let Baekhyun wiggle the story out of him a few days after their lunch, and it'd surprised him, how sympathetic he was. Baekhyun never pulled his punches, but he'd sighed, saying “Oh, Jongin-ah,” and asked him how bad it was. The way he'd avoided Baekhyun's eyes must've been enough, because one phonecall later and he'd had Sehun sitting heavily on his legs and Chanyeol blocking his view of the TV while they argued about what drama to watch. They hadn't really, well, left, since then.

It's nice, although Jongin's fairly certain that Baekhyun is only playing along at this point because it means he's got a captive partner for his drama marathons, and Chanyeol just doesn't want to be left out, but that's okay too.

They're headed out of class when Baekhyun stops suddenly. “Oh, right,” he says. “Jongdae wants to know if he can bring someone to graduation.”

Jongin raises his eyebrows. “Jongdae's got a date?” he asks. “How come I never heard about this?” His friends aren't the only ones who've been checking up on him. Jongdae's very particular these days about Jongin meeting up with him for dinner at least every week or so.

“You're not very good at these things,” Baekhyun says breezily. He flicks Jongin in the forehead. “Maybe you're just not looking close enough.”

Grumbling, Jongin rubs at the sore spot it leaves behind. He's got good friends, he thinks. And most days, he doesn't even think about Yifan at all. He's not moping, he doesn't think about him, and he doesn't miss him. Not even a little bit.

 

 

-

 

 

It's been a very long day, one filled with such treasures like a surprise quiz in one of Jongin's hardest classes and how he'd spilled coffee in his lap and had to sit through three hours of literature in soggy pants. Jongin hates days like these, because they're when he's weakest. When he's tired and worn out, that's when he's most likely to think about Yifan's ugly smile or how nice it'd be to have someone to come home to right now, someone with broad shoulders and a low voice. Jongin just can't muster up his defenses, not right now, and it's the worst.

He's running late for his dinner with Jongdae, too, and he knows that Jongdae will give him hell for it, but he's not expecting the critical way that Jongdae eyes him as he approaches the table. “You're looking particularly kicked puppy,” he says. He gestures for Jongin to sit down and then pushes his drink in front of him. “Did something happen?”

Months ago, Jongin thinks tiredly. “Nothing new,” he says. There's only water in the glass, and for once, Jongin wishes for something a bit harder.

He looks up to find Jongdae's keen eyes on him. “Does this mean you're ready to talk?” he asks. His tone is curious and concerned and Jongin thinks he's already got a headache. The last thing he wants to do right now is open all of this up. Jongdae doesn't even know about his job, much less the complications it comes with, and Jongin doesn't have the energy to explain it. He's not sure he ever will. Thinking about Yifan always makes him feel wrung out and achey.

“I'm fine, hyung,” he says, because eventually it'll be true, and then he won't have to feel like this anymore.

“No, you're not,” Jongdae says. He frowns. “You look like someone sucked the life right out of you.” Jongin busies himself looking at the menu, not reading a word, and doesn't answer. Jongdae twists to peer at Jongin's face. “Do you know a vampire?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips. “Is it Oh Sehun? I knew it. I always thought he was freakishly pale and soulless.”

Jongin cracks a smile. “Must be,” he says. “It explains everything.”

Jongdae nods sagely. He takes a few seconds to order for the two of them, and then he's looking at Jongin again. “Why won't you tell me about this?” he asks, cocking his head. “Don't you trust your favourite hyung?” It's phrased like a joke, but Jongin doesn't miss the hurt in Jongdae's voice.

“It's not – ” Jongin's brow furrows as he struggles to find the right words. He's always been so terrible with words. “I'm tired, hyung,” he says. “I just don't want to think about it anymore.” It's a lame excuse, but it's still the truth. He shrugs a shoulder and forces a smile. “I'm sorry.” It's the worst because the thing is, things have been getting better. Between Baekhyun's determined campaign to keep him busy and his schoolwork, Jongin's been distracted enough that it doesn't hurt so sharply anymore. It's easier now. Today's just a bad day, that's all. A moment of weakness. That's the only reason he keeps pulling out his phone, tempted to text Zitao and ask him for a favour.

Jongdae makes a face. “Are you ever going to tell me?” he asks. “Or is it that then, you'd have to kill me?”

“Exactly,” Jongin says, and this time his smile is a bit more genuine. It's time to steer this conversation away from this kind of stuff, though. “Hey,” he says, “You never told me who your date to graduation is.”

Immediately, Jongdae holds up his hands and shakes his head. “No way,” he says. “You've got your secrets, so I've got mine.” There's a sharp gleam to his eye, though, and Jongin wonders if he should worry about that. “You'll find out soon enough.”

“That's weeks away,” Jongin whines, but Jongdae just smiles serenely.

“That's what you get,” he says, but he knocks his heel companionably against Jongin's calf under the table. Even if he's a bit aggressive about it, Jongin knows that Jongdae pries because he cares.

He also demands a lot of Jongin's attention, which is just what he needs. If he's too busy listening to Jongdae's long, involved story about his campaign to harass his cubicle neighbour, he doesn't have any time to think about who he's missing. It all works out in the end.

 

 

-

 

 

When their graduation ceremony is finally over, and Jongin has that piece of paper in his hand, it still feels a bit like a dream. “We did it!” Chanyeol whoops, and he does his level best to scoop all of them up in a big hug. Baekhyun ends up crushed against Jongin's chest, laughing and elbowing Chanyeol furiously in the gut in a bid for freedom. It's all so ridiculous that Jongin laughs, loudly and helplessly. “We made it! We graduated!”

Sehun squirms out from underneath Chanyeol's arm. “It was a close thing for you,” he points out, and he gets a thwack to the head from Chanyeol's diploma for that.

“Details,” Chanyeol says, and he waves a hand. “The point is, we're men now!”

Baekhyun's eyes narrow mischievously at that, but before he can speak, Jongin is being hoisted a few inches off the ground. “Congratulations,” Jongdae grits out, before Jongin hits the ground again. Jongin is so happy right now that he's not even going to make fun of his tiny cousin's feeble attempts to throw him around. “I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongin says, and he grins. He waves his diploma in Jongdae's face and then stretches his arms up in the air in victory. He's worked _hard_ for this, he earned this diploma declaring him a graduate with honours. It feels amazing.

“I knew you could do it,” Jongdae says, hooking one hand over Jongin's shoulder. He waves a hand at Chanyeol. “You, on the other hand...”

Chanyeol whines, immediately arguing with Jongdae that it's not the _grade_ , it's the final product, but Jongin decides to head this off before it can really begin. “So,” he says, nudging Jongdae in the ribs. “Who's your date? You've been mister mystery about it for like a month, don't I get to meet the lucky lady?”

At this, Jongdae pulls away. “Ah,” he says. “Well, see, he's not my date,” he says. “But I think he'd like to be yours.”

Jongin blinks at him, confused, but then Jongdae points behind him. Jongin turns, and it's like everything slows down. Yifan is standing there in an immaculate suit, fidgeting with a massive bouquet of flowers. He licks over his lips and tries on a smile. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Jongin replies. Behind him, he can hear Chanyeol asking who it is in a stage whisper, followed by a yelp when Sehun thumps him and tells him to shut up.

Jongin's palms are getting sweaty, and he closes his fingers convulsively around his diploma. This is unreal. He's just spent months doing his best to forget that he'd ever even known Yifan, and now he shows up like this? There's something fluttering in Jongin's chest, desperately hopeful.

“These are for you,” Yifan says, and he holds them out. “I'm, uh. I'm really proud of you, you know?” It's funny, Jongin thinks, how vulnerable Yifan looks like this, thick eyebrows sloped up and his smile unsteady.

Jongin doesn't want to be rude, so he takes the flowers. They smell nice, and they fill his arms. He looks up at Yifan. “Thanks,” he says.

“You are _really_ hard to track down,” Yifan says suddenly. He licks over his lips. “Zitao wouldn't give me your number.”

 _Good_ , Jongin thinks. “That was kind of the point,” he says.

Yifan rubs a hand through his hair, and then grimaces when he realizes he's ruining how carefully he's styled it. Jongin's heart lurches. “Look,” he says, “When I said that, that I couldn't buy your time forever, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean I'd get bored of you, or like. Whatever you thought.”

Jongin bristles a little. “What did you mean, then?”

“I don't want to buy your time,” he says quietly. “I want to earn it.” Jongin's fairly certain that his heart is careening around his ribcage now. “I want you to want to share your time with me.”

A flush creeps up his cheeks, and Jongin buries his face in his flowers. This is like something out of a movie. It can't be real. This is a dream. “Seriously?” he asks. He knows – he's not misreading it this time. He can't be. Yifan tracked him down and showed up at his _graduation_ with _flowers_ and now – it just feels like it can't be real.

Yifan laughs weakly and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah,” he says. “I do, I really, really do.”

Next to him Sehun smirks, and then holds out his hands. Jongin wastes no time at all shoving the flowers and diploma into Sehun's grip and then he's closing the distance between him and Yifan.

He's just as broad as Jongin remembered, and his arms still fit so well around his waist. “Wait,” Yifan says. Jongin pauses, unsure. “Wait.” Yifan takes a few careful steps back, and then squares his shoulders. He sticks out his hand. “Hi,” he says. “I'm Wu Yifan. Nice to meet you.”

Jongin stares at him, and then he laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth a little too late. “Um.”

Yifan waves his hand a little, and Jongin likes the way he blushes. “Come on,” Yifan says. “This is a new beginning.”

A new beginning. Okay. Jongin takes Yifan's hand and shakes it firmly. “Kim Jongin,” he says.

Yifan doesn't let go of his hand. “Kim Jongin,” he says. “Would you like to get dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” Jongin doesn't even have to think about that one. Not even for a second. “Yes, please.” Yifan is grinning at him, that stupid gummy smile of his, and then Jongin tugs him forward, cupping Yifan's face in his hands as he leans in for a kiss. He's been waiting _years_ for this. Yifan settles his hands against the small of Jongin's back and holds him close. It's sweet and slow and Yifan tastes so strongly of a breath mint that Jongin knows he had to have popped one right before he came over. He laughs when he pulls away, brushing his nose up against Yifan's cheekbone.

“I'm sorry,” Yifan says, and Jongin thinks it's a bit stupid. He ran and hid, after all. “I'm pretty good at putting my foot in my mouth.”

“It's alright,” Jongdae says magnanimously, startling Jongin as he wraps his arms around the two of them. “Jongin's not good at listening. Or reading into things. Or talking about anything. It's a perfect match, really.”

“Are you done?” Sehun calls. “I'm hungry.” He waves the bouquet of flowers. “And this thing is heavy.”

Jongdae pinches Jongin in the ribs, making him jump. “Alright,” he says. “Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's go out for a celebratory dinner.” He tips his head to smile up at Jongin, all teeth. Jongin is hit with the sinking realization that Jongdae heard that entire conversation. Oh god. “You and I need to talk sometime,” Jongdae says, and Jongin's eyes get big.

“Later?” Yifan suggests. Jongin likes the weight of his arm around his waist, solid and present.

“You can come too,” Jongdae says. Jongin glances at Yifan and the two of them share a look, half amusement and half fear. Yikes.

Sehun passes the flowers off to Jongin and then leads the march to Jongdae's car, arguing with Baekhyun the whole way about where they should go to eat. “Do you like them?” Yifan asks. “I didn't know what to get, but the woman at the shop said they're uh, popular for apologies.”

Jongin snorts, gently digging his elbow into Yifan's ribs. “Thanks,” he says dryly, but then Yifan is leaning over to press a kiss to the top of his head, and Jongin is melting all over again. “They smell nice,” he admits.

He's rewarded with another of Yifan's grins, and Jongin can't help the rush it sends through him. Those smiles are so genuine and unguarded, and he knows they're all for him. This is real and it's his and it's exciting and scary all at the same time.

Jongin knows that Sehun is going to tease him, tell him how lame Yifan is and scoff at his confession, and Baekhyun will probably casually threaten to break Yifan's teeth, but right now, with a diploma in his hand and Yifan's arm around his waist, things feel pretty close to perfect. He'll take it.


End file.
